


Bread in the Bones

by mistyhollowdrummer



Category: Voltron: Legendary Defender
Genre: 2 shot, Allura is an awesome boss, Bones AU, But cut into two parts, Descriptions of decomposing bodies, F/M, Just one big fanfic, Lance is an FBI Agent, M/M, Major Character Injury, Minor (?) Character Death, Not shocking at all, Or else you'd be here forever, Pidge is a forensics anthropologist, Smut, Swearing, Violence, did I mention smut?, just saying, more smut, sorry Adam
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-22
Updated: 2020-07-13
Packaged: 2021-03-02 19:14:02
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 2
Words: 29,224
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24321856
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mistyhollowdrummer/pseuds/mistyhollowdrummer
Summary: Being the top forensics anthropologist in the world means helping the FBI with solving their murders and catching bad guys, but she never thought they'd have to deal with one of their own, much less have to find the killer, or face the horrible reality of becoming the next victim.
Relationships: Curtis/Shiro (Voltron), Lance/Pidge | Katie Holt
Comments: 18
Kudos: 55





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> AYOOOOOOOO  
> Guess who's back from the dead to give you a new fanfic that she spent so long working on because this idea wouldn't leave her alone for months~! This girl right here. Yep. I literally had this idea for... 2 months before finally writing it, because Bones is an amazing show (But if you're squeamish, don't watch it) and I just HAD to write this.  
> Just a forewarning: I am not a forensics anthropologist. I know some stuff, but I am by no means on Temperance's level of smart. I know NOTHING about dead bodies, much less decomposing ones. I also know nothing about the FBI. What I've written is based on lots of research, lots of watching the show (Oh poor me) and more research, so if anything is incorrect, which is probably is, then sue me later.  
> Enjoy. :3

“How did I end up so late?” Romelle’s question was rhetoric, not meant for an answer, and yet she was looking at her watch like it would have one for her.

Half past two. She was fifteen minutes late for the flight.

Romelle’s steps hurried as she saw the arrivals board in sight, but upon reaching it, all she saw were glitches. The screens were going on and off, blinking between a commercial and the list of arriving flights. She groaned, turning around and looking at the people who also seemed displeased.

“Excuse me?” She called out, looking randomly at the people walking away. “Does anyone know about the flight from Peru?”

No answer. She walked ahead a bit.

“The board is broken. Did anyone come off the flight from Peru?”

Again no answer. No one seemed to be paying attention to her even, simply walking by and ignoring her questions.

Romelle felt no less than lost before walking towards the nearest information counter. The man behind it was typing, seemingly focused on whatever it was that was on the screen.

“Excuse me?” She spoke to him, but he held up his finger, a silent and slightly rude sign for her to wait. “The arrivals board is broken. Which gate did the flight from Peru come in?”

Again he held up his finger.

That was it.

That was the last straw.

Romelle breathed in heavily before reaching to undo the buttons of her blouse. She clicked her tongue before yanking the fabric open, revealing her fairly new dark burgundy, satin laced bra with a deep plunge that pushed her breasts up perfectly together.

The man’s eyes lifted for a fraction of a second, but the moment they did, they were stuck.

“Yeah, hi. The flight from Peru? Which gate did it come in?”

“You said excuse me at least, right?”

Romelle turned at the voice, but was no less than thrilled to see the woman standing behind her. Five foot two, brunette hair messily done up in a pony tail off to the side, and freckles scattered all about her pale skin.

“Oh my god, Pidge!” Romelle yanked her shirt closed before running over to Pidge standing feet from her, throwing her arms around her in a big bear hug. The woman could barely return it with her arms struggling to hold the bag she had around her shoulder in place and keeping her suitcase up.

“Good to see you too,” Pidge mumbled into Romelle’s overly long blonde hair.

“So, how was it?” She asked, taking Pidge’s suitcase from her to help lighten the load. “Was it awful? Was it hot? Did you meet any cute guys there? Was it paradise?”

“I don’t think walking through ancient burial sites looking at the remains of the largest graveyard of child body’s counts as a paradise.” Pidge remarked as they started walking away from the desk. Romelle acted like she didn’t notice the way the man’s eyes clung to her.

“You didn’t answer my question! Any cuties?”

“Romelle, I was on site working with some of the top professionals in the world to discover the reason for this burial ground. What makes you think I had time for guys?” Pidge asked her, but Romelle still had that shit eating grin on her face.

Ah, she hadn’t changed in the six months she had been gone.

“You haven’t been with anyone since you broke up with that guy! Are you seriously telling me you haven’t gotten any since almost last year?”

Pidge would have chuckled, but stopped short. She dropped the bag hanging from her shoulder, abruptly turning around to come face to face with a man clad in a suit, tie, and bald, who had been following them precariously since they left.

As a matter of fact, he’d been following _her_ since she got off the plane.

“Sir, why are you following us?” She asked him, not at all intimidated by the fact that he had a foot and a half over her.

The man said nothing, eyes glaring daggers at her like she had personally done something to him.

He reached out and grabbed at her arm, yanking her close, but Pidge was prepared. She may have been short, but she wasn’t someone to mess with.

Pidge twisted her arm around his, breaking his grip on her and grabbing his arm. She turned around with his arm pulled over her shoulder, yanking hard to break his stance. When he stumbled forward, Pidge lurched to the side and used her full weight to knock him to the ground, dropping on top of him.

“Kick his ass, sweetie!” Romelle yelled from the side, whacking him with her purse once Pidge stood up. She twisted his arm around his back when he tried to roll over, pulling his elbow hard enough to make him groan with pain.

“Stop, stop!” He yelled out.

“Who are you?” Pidge demanded, yanking hard enough to push his bones to their limits.

“I’m with homeland security!” He told her, struggling under her grasp.

At the mention of his identity, Pidge let go of him, a small sound like an “ _oh”_ leaving her before she got off of him.

“Oh, looks like we had a bit of a miscommunication then, didn’t we?” Romelle laughed weakly, rubbing her hand behind her neck as she felt a cold trickle of sweat roll down her cheek.

They were in so much trouble.

* * *

“My name is Doctor Katie Holt. I’m a forensics anthropologist at the Galaxy Garrison.” Pidge said, tossing her passport on the table. The man she’d knocked down, a man now suffering severe nerve pain in his shoulder, glared at her as he took it to examine her information. “I’ve been in Peru for the last six months at a mass grave of children’s remains from the sixteenth century.”

“Miss Holt-”

“Dr. Holt.” Romelle corrected, leaning back in her seat. They’d been here for thirty minutes now, and these hard wooden chairs were getting painful.

“Dr. Holt,” He said, handing her passport back to her. “Are you aware you are in possession of human remains?"

"Yeah," She said bluntly. "I was transporting it back to the Galaxy Garrison. It's just a skull."

" _Illegally_ transporting." The man explained, pointing to her bag. "You are aware that there's other ways to transport human remains."

"The government said no. I'm just making my job easier." Pidge crossed her arms over her chest as she zipped up her bag, covering the skull and shielding it from the sun. She didn't need it to be exposed to outside elements that would compromise the remains.

"Dr. Holt. I don't think a woman of your intelligence needs an explanation as to why that can land you in jail.

"Uh, actually," Another voice spoke up.

Their heads turned to the door, catching the stare of a blue eyed man, dressed in a suit as well, though he was fairly disorganized about it with the cocky belt buckle and light blue shirt unbuttoned slightly to show off the tan and hairless skin of his chest. He had that look about him that seemed rather civil, but he stood just like any other FBI agent that Pidge had met in her ten years of work.

"She's cleared for that skull," The man said, walking to the table.

"Who are you?" The man from homeland security asked.

"I'm Special Agent Lance McClain. I'm with the FBI." He said, holding up his badge. "Pidge here works with the FBI identifying the remains of people in murder cases." He explained. "She's also a bestselling author."

Pidge rolled her eyes at him, turning her head away to ignore that smug little smirk or those pretty blue eyes.

"And what do you mean she has clearance?"

"The Republic of Peru denied permission for her to deliver the last of the remains, so I got a court order." Lance handed over an envelope to the man, throwing a glance Pidge's way. "Pretty sure any questions you have can be answered here in this warrant."

"And her?" The man pointed a finger at Romelle.

"Romelle also works with us. She helps us with facial reconstructions and gives us an identity of the victims." Lance said, offering up a kind smile towards the woman. Romelle grinned, rolling her shoulders proudly.

The man from homeland security went quiet as he opened the letter, taking a look at what was written inside. His eyes read over the words carefully, taking everything in before sighing.

"You're free to go, Miss Holt." He said, tossing the paper on the table.

"Ey, you hear that Pidge? Let's blow this stand."

"Don't call me Pidge." She bit out before roughly tossing her bag over her shoulder.

* * *

"You did that on purpose." Pidge growled, her eyes set on the bus stop in front of her.

"Oh come on, Pidge. I was only trying to help!" Lance said, following closely behind.

"Help what? Cause a scene?" The woman asked, turning around with an astonished look on her face. "You had homeland security pull us in for questioning!"

"Yeah, that was kinda harsh." Romelle mumbled, trying her best to keep up, but Pidge was a girl with wide strides, and Lance had long legs. They moved way faster than she did.

"You just wanted to be the knight in shining armor coming to the rescue! _Again!"_

"It's not like you don't love it when I flash my badge." Lance remarked, wiggling his eyebrows at her.

"What I would love is for you to leave me the hell alone!"

"I can't."

"Why?" Pidge turned around, pressing up against Lance and staring up with a mean mug at him. "What could you possibly want?"

Lance smiled coyly.

* * *

"I'm staying in the car." Romelle announced from the back seat, looking out at the crowd of people. From pedestrians to camera crews and news reporters, there wasn't a shortage of people standing behind the yellow tape.

"Fine by me." Lance said, unbuckling himself and stepping out of the car. Pidge quietly got out, fixing her hair to be in a tighter pony tail so it wouldn't get in her face.

"So what happened?" She asked when Lance walked up beside her.

"A few hours ago a homeless woman was digging through the garbage when she found a body." Lance explained, ducking under the caution tape. Pidge followed quietly behind. "Said it was the stuff of nightmares. When I was here last, Keith was getting pictures of the scene, Hunk was collecting soil samples, and Allura was looking at the body.”

Pidge nodded silently, her mind going right into work mode as they walked towards the alleyway sectioned off by more caution tape, and two other men from the FBI standing in front of it all. She could see the group of people Lance spoke of just up ahead, though Allura was harder to see. She was knee deep in a dumpster, the top of her bun barely showing over the edge.

"Hey guys," Pidge greeted as they ducked under the tape, Lance giving a nod towards the FBI agents standing by.

"Hey, look whose back!" Hunk beamed, standing up from where he had been kneeling and holding up his arms. His other hand held a bag with about a dozen larva inside. "Welcome back, Pidge!"

"Hey Pidge," Keith waved a tired arm towards her before focusing on the edge of the dumpster where dried blood sat.

"Did someone say Pidge?" Allura asked, throwing her arms over the edge of the door. "Oh Pidge! Welcome home!"

"How come they get to call you Pidge and I don't?" Lance asked, a hand placed against his chest.

"Because we've worked with her far longer than you have." Keith mumbled under his breath, barely looking up. "Aren’t you a little overdressed for this scene?"

"I had to look good picking her up."

"Yeah, because the knight in shining armor here got homeland security called on me." Pidge grumbled, jumping slightly to look over the dumpster wall, but it didn't work. She was too short.

"Are you seriously still mad about that?" Lance asked.

"Children," Allura berated, pointing a dirty glove at the two of them. "Decomposing body. Not getting any better."

"Keith, did you take pictures of the body?" Pidge asked, pressing a foot into his back. Keith didn't acknowledge the action at all, instead holding still so she could jump up onto his back.

"Yeah, without flash first just like you like. I've been taking pictures of this spot here," He pointed towards the door handle. "There's blood on it. No way to tell whose it is yet."

"Hunk, what about insect activity?" Pidge fumbled to jump over the wall of the dumpster before disappearing inside.

"There's a ton of bot fly larva, so careful with any parts of your skin showing." He mentioned, holding his hand up to show her the bag. "They are fairly new. Along with the maggots embedded in the eye sockets and the way they ate at the eyes, I'd say the body has been here for a few days now."

"Only a few days?" Pidge asked, her eyes finally landing on the victim inside. True to Hunk's word, the eyes had been eaten away by maggots, flies were everywhere, and she took notice of the rat and its babies at the corner of the dumpster, its head peeking out from under a bag of trash.

The body was far more decomposed than she had imagined for one that had been there for only a few days. Along with the nest of rats, the body had been picked upon by crows and other birds. Its flesh was slipping from its bones, and the clothes were tattered and ripped apart, faded by the exposure to the sun.

The gruesome scene was nothing new to her. She'd seen plenty of dead bodies before, but hers were usually less fleshy than this.

"Allura, this has flesh on it still." Pidge noted, bending down to look at the body. "Why'd you call me in when there's still flesh?"

Allura pointed towards the end of the body, showing the leg barely hanging on. Unlike the rest of the body, the leg was almost clean of flesh, with only some muscle left over.

"The leg is mostly bone. That's your job." She said, stepping over her to be towards the head of the remains. "Plus it's been six months. We've missed you."

"Yeah, but I really don't think that calling me in for one bone on a body counts as a job." Pidge yanked on her gloves before carefully stepping to the leg.

"Damn," Lance grumbled, looking over the edge of the dumpster. "Please tell me this person was dead before they were dumped in here."

"There's a gunshot wound through the zygomatic bone. Looks like it entered through there and exited the occipital bone judging by the beveling of the bone." Allura explained.

"... English?" He asked.

"He was shot in the face."

"He?" Pidge questioned.

"What's left of the jaw bone suggests male, and judging by the highbrow ridge and curvature of the nasal passage suggests the same." Allura snorted gently. "Plus uh... He's still got huevos."

"Damn." Lance covered his nose with his tie.

"Can't argue with that logic." Pidge mumbled. "There’s a fracture in his femur, and judging by the swelling of his muscles here, I’d say he had compartment syndrome. That and..." She pulled apart the flesh of his knee, peeling back the muscle to see what was shining beneath it. "Looks like something is embedded in his knee."

"What is it?" Lance asked.

"Looks like... Acrylic polyurethane." She said, holding up the bloody piece.

"Okay, English people. Please." Lance pleaded with them.

"Car paint." Keith told him.

"So... Someone hit our victim with a car and shot him in the face?" Allura concluded, tilting her head.

"That's conjecture." Pidge said, peeling back bits of muscle.

"Dear god tell me he was shot in the face first." Lance mumbled, squinting when Pidge peeled into the leg.

"I don't see the same injury on this side, but... Wait."

"What's wrong?" Allura asked.

"Allura, can I have a napkin or something? Pidge asked, reaching out towards her. Allura looked around aimlessly before Lance tossed a napkin from his pocket at her. Allura handed it to Pidge, and Pidge was quick to wipe away the remaining blood from the bone.

Or what they had thought to be bone.

"Uh, what's wrong with his leg?" Lance asked.

"It's a metal implant." Pidge told him, looking about the leg. "That explains why I don't see the same injury here. Looking closer, I can see now that the muscles covering this leg are artificial.”

"Don't implants usually come with serial numbers or something?" Lance asked her.

"Yeah. We can have the identity of this man in a few hours at best." Pidge agreed.

"I mean it shouldn't be hard to look through missing people for a man with a metal leg." Lance retorted.

"That doesn't explain the level of decomp though." Pidge said, looking up at Allura. “If he's only been here for a few days, why is the body decomposed like this?"

"Do you think he was dumped here?" Allura asked.

"That would explain why there's blood on the side of the dumpster." Keith mentioned, standing up to look inside.

"So wait," Hunk interjected, joining his side. "Someone hit our dude with a car, shot him in the face, kept him for a few weeks, and then dumped him?"

"It had to be within the past few days he was dumped. Garbage trucks come by here every four days." Lance said.

"How do you know that?" Pidge asked.

"You aren't the only one with useless facts in your head." Lance remarked with a grin.

"They aren't useless, they're-"

"Again, children." Allura interrupted what was sure to be a squabble. "I'm not having this today. _Focus_."

"One thing is for sure. The killer couldn't stand to see his face." Keith mentioned.

"What makes you say that?" Pidge asked him.

"He's hit with a car. That doesn't kill him, which is probably what the killer wanted, so the killer has to see his face and the look on it when he's in pain. The shot to the face was to mask all of that."

"Again, that's conjecture." Pidge said, standing up from the remains.

"There's nothing wrong with trying to paint a picture, Pidge." Lance told her.

"Don't call me Pidge." She bit out.

"Let's just..." Allura spoke up, stopping her from her tangent. "Finish up here and get the remains back to the Garrison. We'll do a full autopsy there. Figure out what killed him first."

"Because a bullet to the head says _hi honey I'm home."_ Lance jokingly teased, stepping back from the dumpster. "I'm going to go question the homeless woman. See if I can get anything out of her the officer didn’t."

"Aren't you going to help me out?" Pidge asked, looking over the side.

"Not when you smell like that, no."

* * *

Pidge's eyes opened slowly, the sounds of her apartment all too familiar, but what wasn't familiar was the footsteps. The quiet surrounding her had been disturbed by the sound of quiet steps, slow, but calculated, and she took notice.

Pidge slowly sat up from her bed, listening carefully. Her hand reached under her pillows, grabbing for the pocket knife she always kept close by and pulling out the blade. She walked quietly to her door, looking past the barely open space between it and the door frame to look around.

Someone was out there. Someone with a large shadow and arms outstretched.

Pidge held her breath as she stepped out of the room. The shadow against the wall stopped momentarily, a few seconds too long for her, before growing closer. Pidge felt her heart pick up in pace as she pulled the knife close, closing her eyes in a silent plea to herself before rounding the corner.

The man in front of her barely missed the blade to his chest, dodging and wrapping an arm around her own. He yanked her back against his chest, twisting her arm behind her back with a grip so painful she thought her arm would break. She barked out a cry, and in the moment of the man’s hesitation, she threw her weight back, making him tumble backwards and falling over the coffee table.

The two went tumbling to the ground, but Pidge didn’t have time to grab for her missing knife that went flying in their fall. She felt arms grab her and yank her back, throwing her against the floor before the man sat on top of her. She struggled, but in that very moment she looked up and stopped.

“Lance?” She asked, meeting familiar blue eyes and an amazed expression.

“Pidge…?” He questioned, as if it wasn’t her in front of him.

“What in the hell are you doing here?” Pidge gaped at him, smacking him in the shoulder when he let go of her arms.

“I texted you a few hours ago saying that Allura had Keith clean the bones. They’re ready for you, but when you didn’t answer I called.” Lance sat up and held out a hand for her. “You weren’t answering your phone, so I came to check and make sure you were okay.”

“Believe it or not, Lance,” Pidge grunted as she pushed herself up, ignoring his outstretched hand. “I have major jet lag. I was sleeping.”

“I had to make sure.” He said, fixing the tie around his neck.

“So what? You just broke into my apartment?”

“I know where you keep your spare key,” He explained. Pidge rolled her eyes as she walked away from him, bending down to pick up her pocket knife.

“Well I’m fine. I was just sleeping.” She assured him, tucking the knife safely away and setting it on the coffee table. “The bones are clean now?”

“Yeah, but uh…” Lance awkwardly shifted, eyes looking around before pointing to the time flashing across her TV screen.

Ten fifteen.

“Wait, how long ago were the bones cleaned?” She asked, rubbing her head.

“Seven ish I think? That’s when I texted you anyway.” Lance pulled out his phone to double check. “Yeah, seven thirteen. The Garrison is closed now.”

“I have access. I can just go work.” Pidge said, looking down at herself. She definitely needed to change out her clothes. She’d worn proper attire over her clothes when she went into the dumpster, but that didn’t mean she still didn’t smell. She came home with every intention to shower, change, and go back to work, but she hit her bed and quickly passed out.

“Pidge, you ever heard of a vacation?” Lance asked her, humorously bemused.

“I was just on one.”

“No, you were at work in another country. That doesn’t count as a vacation.” Lance tucked his phone away before wandering her apartment. Her rather spacious apartment that didn’t seem to fit her personality.

He expected a mess of transcripts and robot tech he could never properly described, but she must have had one hell of a house maid, because the place was spotless. Clean white carpet floors that looked like dirt had never once touched them, leather sofa and recliner in the middle of the room, artwork dating back to some century he never paid attention to in history class, and looking like something out of one of those fancy house magazines that were set up to make modern day house families look like garbage.

That’s what being the top forensics anthropologist and a bestselling author would get someone, he guessed.

“They’ll be open tomorrow, Pidge.” Lance told her, fingers gliding across her wall as he wandered to her kitchen.

“There’s a family out there missing this guy.” Pidge insisted, following him.

“About that…” Lance leaned against the archway to the kitchen, pushing his hands in his pockets. “We got a hit off of the serial number on the implant.”

“Really…?” Pidge took in Lance’s stance, the awkward posture that seemed uncomfortable, and the way that his eyes wouldn’t meet hers.

“Yeah… You remember Shiro’s ex?” Lance asked her.

“Uh, yeah. Adam,” Pidge couldn’t remember his last name for the life of her.

She waited for Lance to say more, but he didn’t. His eyes looked up for only a moment, but that moment was long enough for her to connect the dots.

Oh.

_Oh._

“Oh god… T-That was Adam?” Pidge’s breath stuttered, her hands suddenly itching where her previously gloved fingers had skimmed his remains.

“Yeah…” Lance sighed.

“Holy shit…”

“Yeah…”

“So…” Pidge blinked, shaking her head like she was trying to stop her thoughts from jumbling together. So many questions. So many thoughts, and she couldn’t contain them all. “D-Does Shiro know?”

“Yeah, I talked to him earlier.” Lance said, letting out a heavy sigh. “He didn’t take it too well.”

“Why didn’t you bring me? Shiro’s my friend too.”

“That’s exactly why. You’re already close to the victim. We all are. It’s best if we just… Do this as quickly and painlessly as possible.” Lance assured, meeting her worried gaze.

“That should be my line.” Pidge argued. “So then… This means Shiro is a suspect.”

“And so is Curtis.” Lance added.

“Shiro would never murder Adam, or anyone for that matter. Neither would Curtis.”

“I know, Pidge. I know.” Lance held up his hands to her. “I _know_ they didn’t do this, but the jury and everyone else is going to need evidence of that.”

“Then we’ll get evidence.” Pidge said. “I’d rather die before I let Shiro rot in jail.”

“You and me both, Pidge. You and me both.” Lance stood up straight, walking into the kitchen and looking around. It was a useless distraction.

“Shiro and Adam broke up respectively. Shiro even said Adam was seeing someone, wasn’t he? They were still friendly with each other, and Shiro is happy with Curtis now. Their wedding is in two months!”

“All of that isn’t enough to convince a jury,” Lance said, opening a cabinet. There were a lot of dishes in here for someone who lived by herself.

“So then why can’t I go in now? There’s still a murderer out there.”

Lance opened up a cupboard and took note of the bottles of wine. None opened, and all of them old. Pidge had a mighty fine collection is seemed.

“I know you hate making up stories Pidge, but what Keith said earlier was right. Whoever shot Adam didn’t want to see his face. This was premeditated murder, but the person who killed him still had empathy.” Lance explained, pulling out a bottle. “They probably don’t have plans to kill anyone else, so for now I think it’s best if we let them think they’ve won. They’re safe, or so we’ll let them believe, and in the meantime…”

Lance pulled two wine glasses from the cupboard next to the wine and held them up.

“I say we just sit back and pretend we didn’t lose someone important to us.”

Lance had a big heart. The FBI had hardened him over time. Being in the military, telling loved ones their families had been murdered, finding dead bodies, shooting people, and taking lives had beaten his kind spirit down, but that didn’t make him heartless.

Adam had been close with all of them. When he and Shiro had broken up, it came as a shock to everyone. No one ever saw them have any sort of problems, and as far as they knew, Shiro and Adam had a healthy relationship, so to hear of an end to it all was surprising to say the least.

However, Adam stayed connected. He didn’t leave everyone’s lives, because they were closer with Shiro then they were him. He checked in from time to time, and once even brought over dozens of donuts for them at the Garrison, and even paid Lance a visit at his office.

To know that they’d never see him again?

It must have been eating Lance up inside.

Pidge knew that all too well.

“That’s my expensive wine, you know.” Pidge pointed out, watching Lance look around until he found a cork screw in one of her drawers.

“Which means this probably tastes like the bomb.” Lance said, popping the bottle open.

“Three hundred dollars…” Pidge mumbled, trying hard not to cringe.

“I’m sorry, _what?”_ Lance asked. “What even made you buy a three hundred dollar bottle of wine?”

“It was a gift from the senator.”

 _“Of?”_ Lance poured her a generous glass before pouring himself one. “In times like this, Pidge, we learn money is not what’s important.”

He handed her the glass, which she quietly took. She looked at the red liquid, getting a strong scent of it. It was potent.

“What’s important is this.” Lance motioned between the two of them.

“… What?” Pidge asked. Lance rolled his eyes at her.

“ _This._ Us. Friendship. Partnership. Our lives for that matter.” He clinked their glasses together. “To us.”

“… To Adam.” She corrected him, holding up her glass. Lance smiled.

“To Adam…” He agreed before taking a sip. Pidge did the same, getting a taste of the pungent alcohol with a bit of fruit mixed in, though she couldn’t quite pin what. She had never actually been one for drinking wine. She just kept it since it was a gift.

Lance left her side, meandering in her living room and stalking around her flat screen TV. He let out a low whistle, running his fingers across the screen before dropping down against her couch. He was careful with the wine, setting it down on the coffee table before picking up the remote.

“You got any good recommendations for TV, Pidge?” He asked, looking towards her. Pidge stood silently by the archway, glass of wine in hand and eyes trained on the ground. “… What’s wrong?”

“… That was Adam…” Pidge mumbled, slowly walking to the couch. Lance scooted over, letting her sit beside him. “I… Saw his skull…”

“We all did…” Lance reminded her, taking her wine glass and setting it down beside his own. “You know… Usually you’re the more level headed one in cases…”

“Yeah, but…” Pidge closed her eyes and breathed deeply. “I should have connected the dots. I should have known that was Adam. The prominent cheek bones, the sculpted jawline with the higher brow ridge. The metal leg. The markers indicated it was him. Why… Why didn’t I see it?”

“Maybe you didn’t want to.” Lance supplanted, throwing his arm over her shoulders.

“I don’t let the closeness of a victim impair my better judgement. This is a regular case. Just because we knew him doesn’t change the fact that he’s another victim with someone out there who took his life.”

“Pidge-” Lance stopped when she shot him a glare. “ _Katie_ … I know you want to believe that, but in this instance… It’s completely different.”

“Then how are you so calm?” She asked him. “How are you able to go on like we didn’t know Adam? Like we didn’t see him by Shiro’s side all the time? Like we hadn’t gotten our outfits ready for their wedding before they broke it off?”

Lance stayed quiet, staring at her with an unreadable expression. After a few moments, he simply shrugged his shoulders.

“When you’ve been around death as much as I have, it’s not like you grow numb to it. It just… Becomes an everyday occurrence.”

“But I’ve been around death.” Pidge interjected, her body turning to face him just a little bit more. “I’ve solved dozens of murders. I was just in Peru at a mass burial of children. _Children,_ Lance. I know what death is.”

“But not the death of a loved one.” Lance explained. “I was in the army for four years, Pidge. I… I’m used to losing people close to me…”

Pidge swallowed hard, looking away from him and to her glass of wine.

“I’d like to think I can think rationally about this. Adam is another victim… But…”

“But what…?” Lance asked, his hand resting against her shoulder and squeezing gently.

“I can read his bones, Lance.” Pidge looked up with a solemn expression. “I don’t need anyone to tell me about his life for me to see it. When he was around five, Adam fell. Hard. He broke his clavicle in two places and needed pins to hold it together. That sort of damage impaired his ability to move his arm, but that didn’t stop him from living.”

“When he was twenty two, he was in a car accident. One so bad he had to have his leg amputated. He got the metal implant two years later, but the damage to his nerves would have caused him daily pain. No amount of medication would fix that, but he kept going every single day, fighting the pain, because he wanted to live…”

Pidge’s hands fisted her jeans, her nails scratching at the denim until it hurt.

“Keith is wrong. I know you said there’s nothing wrong with painting a picture of what happened, but you’re wrong. The swelling in Adam’s muscles on his leg only happens with compartment syndrome, but in order for that to happen, Adam would have had to have been alive for longer than thirty minutes for it to settle in. Judging by the swelling in the artificial nerves, he was alive longer than that. The person who murdered him didn’t have empathy. They kept him alive and tortured him, but the scrapping on the metal implant suggests he crawled away, probably after getting hit by the car. Adam was still fighting to live.”

“He wanted to live, and he fought hard to do it despite all of the pain. Compartment syndrome causes immense pain. The type of pain that could put someone into shock and kill them…” Pidge felt tears prickling in her eyes, the burn unpleasant and unwelcomed. “But he didn’t die from that. The killer murdered him when he wasn’t dying fast enough, kept his body, and then threw it in the trash like Adam meant nothing to him. This wasn’t something filled with empathy. This was torture…”

Lance rested a hand against her thigh, squeezing gently to bring her some form of comfort. Pidge grabbed his hand, tangling her fingers in his own and bringing it closer.

“… This is why it’s no ordinary case, Pidge,” Lance mumbled, leaning forward. Pidge sighed when she felt his chest press into her shoulder. “You can read all of that from almost nothing left of a person. You know Adam’s life without anyone telling you otherwise… I know you say you want to think rationally, but that’s not going to happen…”

“The best thing to do is think logically about this…” Pidge practically whimpered, looking at him. She really didn’t take in how close he had gotten until she could feel his breath on her lips.

“You can say that all you want, but in the end, the best thing we can do is live.” Lance’s hand came up, pushing her bangs from her face and tucking them behind her ear. “We can grieve. We can solve his murder, but Adam wouldn’t want us to suffer forever, so… We live and keep going…”

“Is that what you always did?” Pidge asked, pressing a hand into his chest. “You just… Moved on…”

“I didn’t move on. I’d never forget the people I lost, but I let it motivate me to keep moving forward…”

Pidge bit her bottom lip, squeezing her eyes shut when a few stray tears slid down her cheeks. Lance’s fingers caught them though, wiping them away gently. He leaned forward, pressing his lips against her cheek when another fell. Pidge tilted her head ever so slightly into him, lips grazing his skin and her breath fanning against his chin.

He leaned back, catching her watery gaze with his own. Pidge’s fingers trailed up his chest, catching around the buttons of his shirt before she leaned forward, pressing her lips gently into his. Her eyes slipped shut briefly, just to take in the sensation before she pulled away, Lance’s lips chasing hers.

“I-I thought…” She mumbled, feeling her pulse racing in her chest. “We said we wouldn’t do that again…”

“You started it…” Lance quietly chided, his lips pressing into the corner of her mouth. She turned her head into his lips, this time chasing after him when he pulled back. His hand gently ran up her side, from her thigh up to her waist, but stopping just before the band of her bra beneath her shirt. “Pidge… We haven’t been together since you broke up with that guy… Since before you left for Peru, and honestly…”

Pidge’s gaze dipped to look at his lips, trained on the way his tongue grazed his lips ever so slightly.

“… I missed you,” Lance told her, his fingers grazing her ribs and moving towards her chest, just barely brushing the buttons of her shirt.

That did it. Any semblance of control she had slipped into the nonexistent void with any other worry she had, bringing her to kiss him properly.

Her hands ran up his neck, fingers tangling into his well-kept hair. She groaned softly against his lips, feeling like he was taking any rational thought she had and tossing it out the window with just his lips alone.

Lance’s hand cupped her breast, softly kneading it between his fingers as his tongue brushed against her lips. She opened willingly with a sigh, feeling the penetration of his tongue against her own and melting into the touch.

She felt the buttons of her blouse pluck open one by one. She didn’t need to look to feel the cool air hit her skin as he exposed her, but her mind came back to reality for a brief moment with a thought.

“L-Lance…” She breathed against his lips. The man simply busied himself with placing gentle kisses against her neck. “I-I was on an eight hour flight, and then in a dumpster. I haven’t-“

She stopped when they started leaning back. Lance’s knees bracketed her hips, placing him right where she wanted him. The simple touch of the zipper of his pants against the front of her jeans was enough to make her nearly lose her train of thought.

“I-I haven’t had a shower yet. I… I’m probably gross…”

Not probably. She hadn’t had a proper shower in almost three days, going from airport to cabin, back to the airport, and then landing herself in a dumpster with a decomposing body. She was disgusting in her opinion. She needed to shower.

“Where’s your bathroom?” Lance asked against her skin, blue eyes peering up at her.

“First door on the right at the end of the hall…” She told him.

Lance was quick to get to work. He wrapped his arms around her, one under her back, and the other gripping her thigh. He hoisted her up into his lap, Pidge instinctively wrapping her legs around his waist and gripping his shoulders tightly as he stood up. She clung on for dear life as he began walking down the hall, finding the door she spoke of open and waiting for them.

Lance would have taken in the details of her pristine bathroom. The well-lit room with white walls and a large counter with two sinks installed, or the white marble floor with a towel lingering by the shower door, but Pidge had taken it upon herself to suck on the lobe of his ear as he walked, and that about did him in.

He set her down carefully before going to the large and spacious shower and turning it on. The water hit him full force, at first cold and uninviting, but as he tampered with the temperature, it became bearable.

“Your suit…” Pidge mumbled distractedly.

Lance grabbed her hand and guided her inside the shower stall, albeit with some force. She winced at the invasive intrusion of water, but Lance towered over her, blocking most of its path from the nozzle.

He was on her within seconds, hands guiding her hips against his while his lips sucked a dark patch of color into her neck. Pidge sighed against him, tugging on his hair as she rolled her hips into his. The water sprayed in her face, dripping down her neck and into her blouse and bra, but her biggest problem right now was that Lance was the one with too much on.

She reached around and felt for the buttons of his shirt. She undid them one at a time, meticulously, just as she always was, before parting it around his shoulders. His jacket came off with it, plopping to the wet ground beneath them.

Lance’s frame shuddered at the feeling of the water pelting against his back. She was hypnotized by the way his muscles moved under his skin, running her hands down his back and into the back of his pants, grabbing for his ass.

Lance groaned against her skin, his hardening erection becoming more prominent against her. He was rougher than he normally was with her, yanking her blouse open without a worry for any of the buttons and reaching back to undo the clasp of her bra. His hurried movements only served as greater tension, making Pidge gasp softly against his shoulder, where she placed an open mouthed kiss.

“Katie…” Lance yanked her bra off of her and tossed it away for it to land somewhere she couldn’t care about.

“Pidge…” She corrected, running her hands up his back. She loved the way his muscles moved beneath his skin.

Lance chuckled against her neck before dipping down, sucking a nipple into his mouth. The angle was awkward with their height difference, but he made up for it with enthusiasm.

Pidge moaned lowly in her throat, arching her back to encourage his behavior, letting him take her nipple into his mouth with vigor and suck on it, his tongue teasingly sweeping side to side with it. All the while, one of Lance’s hands cupped her other breast, kneading it firmly, while the other started undoing the zipper of her jeans.

Her body shivered against him, mind going numb to anything but him. Him and only him. His mouth on her, hands rolling down her sides of teasing her nipple. Fingers dipping into her underwear and rolling her skin into his palm, still tougher than they had been, but always taking great care not to hurt her. He never would.

Pidge staggered back into the wall of the shower, her back arching at the cold touch and gasping gently into the steamed air. Lance’s lips trailed down her side, going down and down, lower and lower to places she had only ever imagined he would go again. Her hips canted a little, her breathing stuttering when his teeth tugged on the zipper of her pants with surprising ease. She was too flushed to look down, instead letting herself feel anything and everything he had to offer.

She could feel his breath against her, not as hot as the air in the shower, but warm against her warming skin and moist. Moist in a way that the water couldn’t feel against her.

She felt Lance’s hands tug on the waist band of her jeans, her underwear tucked with them as he tugged. His lips trailed after the fabric, moving tantalizingly slow into a bed of short curls moistened by her arousal. Pidge shuddered, her fingers tangling in his hair. She felt the slide of his wet appendage against her thigh as he tugged her jeans the rest of the way down, trapping her shoes at her feet.

Pidge tried to step out of them, but Lance’s eagerness was abundant. She seemed trapped in place, especially when his hands pressed her back into the wall, pinning her by her hips and keeping her painfully in place.

Pidge blinked the shower water out of her eyes, looking down just as Lance licked a long strip from her lower thigh, over her folds, and up to her naval. His eyes caught hers as he did so, and she swore quietly under her breath as she felt trapped by his gaze.

Lance hummed against her, going back to her core and placing his lips over her clit. He sucked gently, but the gentle suction was enough to have her head reeling, tipping her head back into the wall to letting out a breathy mewl. His fingers parted her folds, giving him more access as his tongue licked her with the desperation of a drowning man, and maybe he was.

Pidge whined deep in her throat when he started massaging her, fingers dipping back into her entrance ever so slightly, and then coming up to rub her clit. His hot breath fanned against her skin, and the sensation was enough to have her shuddering.

“Ahh… Lance…” She breathed, gently tugging on his hair. Lance moaned lowly, the vibrations against her skin teasing. She managed to free at least one of her feet from her denim prison, her soaked shoe slipping off with it so she could throw her leg over his shoulder.

Like this, the angle for him was better. She was more open, more vulnerable, and that was exactly what he wanted.

Lance pushed a finger into her entrance, feeling her walls contract around him, tightening at the intrusion before relaxing. After all of this time, she was tight, and the very idea of what she’d feel like around his cock had him groaning.

He couldn’t wait much longer.

Pidge squirmed as he charged himself with making her fall apart. His finger pumped in and out at a rather fast pace, faster than he’d ever really done it before, while his lips sucked and his teeth teased at her clit. Pidge rolled her hips into his mouth, gasping with each thrust, feeling like she was losing more and more air each time.

She was already on the verge of falling apart. In her past sexual experiences, no man every really got her riled up like this. Not this fast anyway. Not like Lance could. Lance just seemed to know exactly where to hit, what to push, and what to touch to make her lose her mind in a fraction of the time the other men could. Be it from sexual experience or something else, she wasn’t sure, and right now, she couldn’t care less.

She just wanted more. More, more, _more_ of him. What he was doing, while amazing, just wasn’t enough.

She wanted all of him. In her, around her, pushing in and out of her. She wanted his hot breath against her neck, their fingers laced together, her hands tugging on his hair and her nails digging into his skin. For his hands to grip so hard at her hips that it would leave bruises the next morning.

She wanted more. It just wasn’t enough.

“L-La- Ahh-!” Pidge’s words were choked on a moan trapped in her throat.

Lance pushed in another finger, pressing up into that spot inside her that made her see stars. A few more hard sucks to her clit and a couple of thrusts into that one spot was all it took for her to come undone.

Lance greedily slurped it up, his tongue licking around his fingers as she came. His thrusts slowed as she came down from her high, slower and slower until he eventually slipped his fingers out of her all together, watching the way her entrance twitched with the lack of intrusion.

“Fuck…” He cursed under his breath, slowly standing up.

Pidge’s leg fell back to the floor, her knees shaking, but she didn’t crumble. Not yet anyway. She was too busy trying to catch her breath, her mind pleasantly numb in a way that it hadn’t been in almost a year.

Her eyes drifted to him, down his bare chest and to his hands that clumsily removed his blue lion belt buckle, his sign of rebellion as an FBI agent. Her hands reached out, stopping him and undoing the zipper of his suit pants for him. She tugged them down, watching his cock slowly slip from its confines, the tip an angry shade of red and already dripping with pre cum.

Lance was painfully hard, and she had every intention of fixing that problem for him, but as she slowly kneeled down, taking his cock in her hands, he grabbed her arms and pulled her back up.

“What…?” She quietly asked, still buzzing from her orgasm. “You don’t want me to…?”

“Another time, I-I just…” He turned her around, pressing her against the wall, chest flush with the cold tile and hands splayed out by her head. “I’ve gotta be inside you. I can’t wait.”

She could hear the desperation in his tone. The pain he was feeling was mutual, and she found herself jutting her hips out a little, trying to edge him inside of her.

Lance grabbed at her hips and rubbed against her, his erection gloriously rubbing against her opening. She felt the tip dip inside a little before slipping out, and the irritation she felt was outmatched. She wanted it, and now.

“Lance…” She breathed, reaching behind her. Her hand found his cock quickly enough, guiding him to her entrance and helping him press in ever so slightly. “H-Hurry up…”

Lance let out a heavy breath, his hands gripping her hips before sheathing himself inside of her, maybe a little quicker than he normally would.

Pidge gasped while he let out a deep moan, clawing at the wall with one hand while the other pressed back against his hips. It had been almost a year since she had been with anyone, and in the time she spent in Peru, the long and painful six months had been spent mostly working. She must have allowed herself maybe two, three times of pleasure in that whole time?

She was tight. Very tight, and the pressure inside of her, while not painful, was fuller than she was used to. There was no way Lance had gotten bigger in the short time apart, but damn if it didn’t feel like he had.

“F-Fuck, Pidge…” Lance leaned forward, pressing his chest against her back and wrapping his arms around her front, a hand of his cupping her breast gently. “Y-You’re so tight… So hot and tight…” He breathed into her ear. The heat from his breath and the tone of his voice made her shiver.

“Been so long…” She mumbled, putting her hands over his own, tangling her fingers with his.

“Y-You didn’t…” Lance pulled his hips back and thrust in for the first time. Pidge whined against the wall. “You didn’t… Sleep with that guy?” Lance started a slow, steady pace, pushing in, grinding against her core, and then pulling out almost all of the way, only to repeat the process. “That… What’s his name…?”

“N-No…” Pidge struggled to keep her stance against the wall, inhaling a little sharper with every thrust. “I-I found Regris intellectually stimulating, b-but-!” At the mention of his name, Lance reached down between her legs, his middle and first finger rubbing at her clit. “I-I didn’t find him sexually appealing…!”

“Intellectually stimulating, huh?” Lance’s pace quickened just at the thought of the man. “Not a turn on for you?”

“I-It’s- Ah! It’s not that!”

“So what does that say about m-me then?”

Lance’s pants fell to the floor, a mess of fabric at his feet. The water had soaked them both at this point, their clothes ruined, shoes drenched, and neither could care less.

“Y-You hah… You have a very strong jawline, a-and unique blue eyes. Y-You’re tall and well built, b-but not-!”

“Not what?” Lance’s paced was getting harsher, slapping into her hips with a wet squelch between them. His breathing was uneven, but his thrusts were perfectly timed, perfectly calculated. As if he were aiming for a target, the same precision and single-mindedness he used with his gun was the same attitude he kept when fucking her against the wall.

“Y-You don’t display over alpha patterns th-that I find absurd! You- Ahh!”

Lance pulled her away from the wall, holding her up against his chest and fucking up into her like he was trying to prove a point.

“Y-You- Fuck…! I-I ahh!”

Pidge couldn’t comprehend a single sentence anymore. Asking her to form any sort of coherent sentence was asking too much from her at this point. All she could think about was Lance drilling into her, his cock stretching her and filling her to the brim while his fingers tugged almost painfully on her clit.

Almost of course. He still had half a mind to take care of her.

Pidge’s legs started shaking, her knees going weak. She was slowly sinking against him, until Lance started to realize that he was holding up most of her weight.

Lance pulled out of her and let her fall gently to the floor. He went down with her, laying her on her back and parting her legs on either side of his hips.

Pidge wrapped her arms around his shoulders, tugging him down into a hot, messy kiss. Their tongues lapped at each other, drool dribbling down the corner of her lips as he pushed himself back in. The new angle was heaven to her.

“S-So you find me attractive?” Lance asked against her mouth, continuing his harsh, almost brutal pace.

Pidge’s hands fell by her head, back arching until her chest pressed into his. She moaned loudly, hearing the echo of it off the tiled walls of her shower stall. There was something so embarrassing by it, but something about that was all the more arousing.

“C-Come on Pidge,” Lance’s hands braced beside her head, trapping her hair against the floor. “T-Tell me I’m attractive…”

“I-I can’t- Can’t-!” Somewhere in the back of her mind, Pidge was trying to tell him she couldn’t do that. She was in too much euphoria to make herself sound logical, and yet that didn’t sit well with him.

Lance’s hips slammed hard into her, his balls clapping into her ass until most of the sounds in the room were their hips joining together, his heavy breaths, and her obscene moans.

“Can’t what?” Lance leaned down to suck the skin of her neck into his mouth. He tangled some of her hair into his fingers and pulled, tugging her head to the side. “Tell me…”

His low, heady tone made her core clench.

She was already on the edge, and feeling the way his rhythm was faltering, so was he.

Two could play at this game.

“F-Fucking… Cock, s-so good…” She panted, scratching her nails down his back. Lance groaned into her neck, his muscles rippling under her fingers. He always had enjoyed a bit of marking. “S-So big, a-and warm… C-Can’t…”

Lance tugged harder on her hair, sucking so hard on her skin that she knew there would be a bruise. Most likely in an obvious place, because he had always been possessive, even when they weren’t together.

“C-Cum… Gotta cum…!” Pidge whined, her hips rocking into his, matching his thrusts. He’d thrust up as she would push down, and the sound of their hips smacking together only got louder.

“You wanna cum…?” Lance asked against her neck, the hand that had been pulling her hair gently gliding down her side.

“P-Please…!” She pleaded with him, tears burning her vision. She couldn’t tell what they were from, but they blurred her sight, and all she seemed to be focused on was Lance and his body.

Him in her. On her. Around her. Hands on her, nails digging into her hips. Cock pulsing inside of her. Rubbing up against her, in her walls and fucking her senseless.

Just a little more.

“F-Fucking… Pidge…!” Lance huffed, pressing his forehead into her collar bone. Pidge practically cried as her orgasm reared in on her. Her arms wrapped around his shoulders and tugged hard, forcing his chest into hers and keeping him in place.

She came with what could only be described as a scream, her whole body convulsing, centering in on where Lance was fully buried inside her, and judging by the way he tensed, groaning loudly against her neck, he was cumming too.

Pidge frantically road out her orgasm, humping into his lap as he thrusted into her a few more harsh and heavy times. She felt the way his cum filled her, warm and wet, and any other time she’d probably think it was gross, but after so long, she was left with a serene feeling and warmth.

They stilled at the same time, gasping against one another’s bodies, slight twitches of their muscles everywhere and little movements of their hips as they came down from their high.

Lance was resting most of his weight against her, but she didn’t care. Her arms were slumped against him, barely hanging onto his shoulders, and only because she was barely hanging onto his hair. Their chests heaved with the effort it took to breathe, and in this small stall, it didn’t help any.

The water coming from the shower was now much cooler. Unpleasantly so. Pidge couldn’t tell if it was because their bodies were so hot that it was cold against them, or if it was because they had been letting the water run for so long that the hot water diminished.

Lance must have had the same idea. He struggled pushing himself up on his hands, looking down at Pidge’s flushed form; her pert nipples, her skin red and flushed all over, the giant bruise in her shoulder, and her puffy, kiss swollen lips. Her eyes were slipping shut from exhaustion, but her pupils were blown wide. He could barely see any of her natural eye color.

He leaned back for just a quick moment to turn the water off, finally free from the pelting rain fall. The two of them shuddered, suddenly quite cold in the now otherwise silent room. All that was left was their heavy breathing, and the dripping of the water off of their bodies.

Lance rested his hands on her hips before carefully pulling out of her, marveling at the sight of her entrance twitching, almost like it was calling back for him. It looked oddly empty now, and judging by the look on Pidge’s face, she felt the same way.

Lance wrapped his arms around her, one under the small of her back, and the other under her head before helping her sit up. She wrapped her arms around his shoulders as he stood, helping her to her shaking feet. He carefully stepped out, taking the towel from the floor and covering the rather large puddle of water from the shower.

It might have been smart had they shut the door behind them.

They both stepped out all of the shower stall, walking to the carpeted part of her floor. Lance grabbed a towel from the back of the door and wrapped it around her shoulders, then grabbed another one and gently placed it on her head. Pidge blearily looked up at him, sighing quietly as Lance rolled the ends of her hair in the towel, soaking up the water dripping from the ends.

“… That didn’t count as a shower…” Pidge mumbled, blinking back exhaustion. Lance chuckled quietly, pulling on the towel to bring her flush against her body.

“We can always do it again…” He whispered, though she didn’t know why. No one would hear them. They were the only ones there.

“I really… I’m exhausted…” Pidge said, leaning her head against his shoulder. Lance chuckled again, wrapping his arms around her and hoisting her up. She wrapped her legs around his naked waist, her arms around his shoulders, and held on as he walked out of the room.

She didn’t say where it was, but it wasn’t hard to find Pidge’s room. This was more her style, with diagrams on her walls of skeletal structures, blueprints for her most recent inventions, and files from old cases scattered about her desk. Her bed was barely clean, only one spot free of dirty clothes from her suit case, and he assumed that’s where she laid down to sleep. He pushed some stuff out of the way to give him some space before laying her down.

“Really, Lance…” She uttered, gently pushing on his chest.

“I know, I know…” He assured with a soft smile gracing his lips, yanking the blanket from the other side of the bed and bringing it over them both.

Pidge quietly curled into his side, her eyes closing within seconds.

 _This_ was something they’d never actually done before.

* * *

“Good morning,” Pidge greeted the group, sliding her ID card through the scanner and walking up onto the platform.

“Well, well, look who it is.” Hunk grinned from his spot at his desk, setting down the small tube he’d been holding. “I thought you said you were coming back last night.”

“What happened to you, Pidge?” Allura asked, looking up from the body, the stomach of their known victim in her hands.

“I fell asleep. I’ve got major jet lag.” She excused, walking towards the table. Her steps slowed to a stop, eyes looking down at the clean skull laying against the table, the mandible disconnected and sitting beside it.

A shiver ran up her spine, looking into the empty sockets of the skull. Her mind was still trying to comprehend who it was specifically she was looking at, but for some reason, unlike their other cases, she couldn’t put the face to the skull. Even seeing the metal implant of the leg still couldn’t bring her to the safe conclusion on her own.

“Pidge…” A hand rested against her shoulder.

Pidge looked up to see Lance standing behind her, offering a somber look. He must have followed her on the platform after she swiped her ID, otherwise he would have set off the alarms.

She hadn’t even been aware that he was at the lab. He must have gotten here before she had, seeing as how he was gone when she woke up. He was and always had been quiet on his feet, but that was a whole new level of sneaky.

“I’m fine,” She assured, stepping out of his grasp. She didn’t need to look back to see the look on his face, knowing full well what it looked like. That kicked puppy dog look on his face was hard to overcome. “Keith, did you do a mold of the injuries?” She asked, looking towards Keith’s desk.

“Just the one to his leg. Check this out.” Keith said, pointing to his monitor. Pidge walked up behind him, bending down to look closer at his screen. Lance hovered over both of them to see the scribble on his screen that he couldn’t make heads or tails of. “The tibia and fibula on his left leg, the leg without the implant, were both fractured, angled and splintering backwards, suggesting he turned to see the car coming instead of turning away from the car. I took pictures of the bruising on the skin of his legs, hands, and hips where he landed. Antemortem bruising suggests he was alive after being hit by the car.”

“Allura noted the scraping on his hip bones.” Pidge mentioned.

“Whatever hit him was a smaller model of a car, a make with a frame lower to the ground. Probably some sort of sports car.”

“Shiro and Curtis don’t own a car like that…” Lance mumbled.

“The acrylic polyurethane Pidge found in his knee was registered as a specific color called _granite pearl coat._ Grey. This color name is registered under the Dodge car company.”

“So we’re looking for someone who has a car from Dodge, probably a sports car, that’s grey, and that’s probably banged up.” Lance concluded, slowly nodding his head.

“If you look at these fractures here,” Keith said, pointing to his screen and showing close up images of the fractures to Adam’s tibia and fibula. “The height of the impact suggests a car with a hood at its highest of… Twenty five point nine inches from the ground. These markings in the bone actually look like grid imprints. The car left an indent in his skin here…”

Keith pulled up more photos. Lance was still sensitive for the sight, but Pidge could see him forcing his eyes on the picture.

This was for Adam. They had to do this.

“There’s almost a honeycomb pattern here. The front grid of the car has that weird bumper that’s supposed to allow for faster and smoother travel.”

“That’s why you’re the man, Keith.” Lance said, patting him on the back.

“King of the lab…” Keith uttered under his breath, but they still heard it.

“Uh, not until you hear this.” Hunk interjected from behind them, a file folder in his hands.

“What’cha got there, Hunk?” Lance asked him. Pidge took the folder form him quietly and opened it up.

“Allura gave me the samples of dirt imbedded in Adam’s hands-”

“For now, Hunk…” Pidge interrupted him, trying hard not to come across as harsh. “… We refer to him as a victim. Like we do every other case.”

Hunk’s shoulders fell slightly, but he could understand where she was coming from. The easier they detached themselves from his person, the easier it would be to stay focused and catch the killer.

“The… _Victim_ …” Hunk began, motioning for them to follow. Lance and Pidge kept closely behind him, Lance periodically looking over her shoulder to try and decipher what was in the folder. “Had polyurethane stuck in the scratches on his hands and hips.”

“Polyurethane?” Lance frowned at him as they stopped at his desk.

“Polyurethane is a polymer made of organic units like carbamate. It doesn’t melt unless subjected to extremely high temperatures around ninety-five to one hundred and ten degrees celsius.” Lance lifted his eyebrow at the bigger man. Hunk rolled his eyes. “About two hundred and three to two hundred and thirty degrees fahrenheit.”

“Ah…” The agent sounded.

“Also imbedded in his injuries was a mixture of aggregates, binders, and fillers.”

“What’s that?” Lance asked.

“Asphalt?” Pidge questioned.

“Yep.”

“So why would polyurethane be in the injuries as well?” She asked, but the question was more directed at herself.

Hunk sat down at his computer and began typing away. He pulled up multiple articles, all with the uses of it.

“Within the last two years, the government has issued a new construction design using polyurethane _coating_ to gloss over asphalt. It extends the life of concrete floors.”

“Like parking garages…” Pidge came to the conclusion quickly, her eyes widening slightly.

“I checked, and the apartment complex that Adam lived in had a nice little parking garage built across the street not even three months ago.” Hunk said with a smile.

“Someone ran him down in his own garage.” Pidge muttered.

“I’ll get forensic units over there right now and start searching for blood stains, car parts, or anything else that can tell us where he was hit.” Lance said, pulling out his phone.

“King of the lab!” Hunk announced proudly, throwing his arms in the air.

“That’s not fair,” Keith argued, looking away from his computer. “I’m the one that figured out what car hit him.”

“But I’m the one that found where he was hit.” Hunk came back with, a grin spreading his cheeks wide.

Lance rolled his eyes as he walked away, walking down the stairs and off the platform to make the call.

“Tox screen came back negative,” Allura announced, removing her gloves covered in stuff Pidge didn’t want to know about. “The only thing I found in his system were Codeine and Hydrocodone.”

“He was taking them for his nerve pain.” Pidge mentioned, walking towards the table where Adam’s skeleton laid. She got on some clean gloves before picking up the metal implant he had for his leg.

“Those are some seriously heavy drugs to take…” Keith spoke carefully.

“Scratching here shows the car definitely hit both of his legs, but there’s less damage here.” Pidge pointed out along the tibia.

“There was less antemortem bruising on that side too.” Allura said.

“Congruent with Keith’s theory. The victim was turning towards the car, probably after hearing it drive up to him, before he was hit.” Pidge set it down carefully, back in its original place. She slowly began to walk around the table, examining the bones from every angle. Her fingers gently pressed into the skull, feeling around the beveling of the gunshot wound.

“I gave Hunk samples of the particles found in Ad-…” Allura stopped herself short and pulled her lips in. “That the victim had in his lungs.”

“Yeah, it was some weird mix of things. Wherever he was taken after being hit, I can’t place yet.” Hunk said, scratching his head.

“What was it?” Pidge muttered, mindless to their chatter.

“There was a bunch of detritus. A _lot_ of mold spores. Nitric Oxcide and Nitrogen Dioxide, but… I don’t know what those mean.”

“Wouldn’t those two things cause smog?” Keith asked with a frown.

“A deadly one if inhaled long enough.” Hunk mentioned.

“Do you think someone left him to suffocate in a place like that?” Keith questioned, turning to look at the remains.

“No, there wasn’t enough in his lungs. It would have been poisonous if exposed to it for a long period of time, but even then it’s not enough to knock him out in a short amount of time.” Allura explained.

“Define short.” Pidge said, bringing the magnifying lens over to examine the gunshot wound.

“Even a few weeks wouldn’t be enough time to do any permanent damage.” She said. “Did you find something?”

“The gunshot wound…” Pidge mumbled.

“Kinda hard to miss that, Pidge.” Keith retorted.

“No, I recognize this bullet hole…” She said, looking towards the screen with the magnified image. “It was a smaller bullet. I’ve seen this type of indentation before. I know the gun, but… I can’t remember the make.”

“Have Romelle run the dimensions through her database. Maybe she can find something.” Allura suggested. Pidge nodded quietly before returning the skull back to its original position.

“Good work guys. Hunk, keep on those chemicals. Try to figure out what it is.” She said as she walked off the platform.

“You got it,” He turned back to his computer as she walked down the corridor, heading straight for Romelle’s office.

The door was open, and Pidge walked into the nicely lit room, her eyes searching around the rather large space until she saw Romelle at her display screen. The woman was standing, almost motionless, staring up at the screen with furrowed brows and a heavy frown. Pidge walked up behind her quietly, looking up at the screen to see what had her out of sorts.

It wasn’t hard to come to the conclusion.

It was Adam’s picture. A recreation actually. Romelle had done his facial reconstruction based off the marks of the skull, even with part of it missing from the gunshot.

Those dark brown eyes. His light brown hair. She’d even put his glasses on for him.

Her recreations were usually spot on, but this one was… Uncanny.

“Hey…” Pidge mumbled, slowly coming to stand beside her. Romelle glanced over her shoulder at her, startled to know she wasn’t alone in the room.

“Oh… Hey Pidge.” She spoke quietly, almost in a whisper.

“Is that your recreation?” Pidge asked, though the answer was obvious.

“Yeah… I drew him smiling. I thought it was fitting for a pretty face like his…” She explained, turning away and going back to her desk.

“It is…” Pidge agreed, her eyes following the woman. “Is this what you showed Shiro?”

“Yeah… Had to…” Romelle sighed heavily. “Protocol and all that… Even though we knew who he was by the serial number.”

“We’re going to find who did this.” Pidge told her, walking up to place a hand over hers. “Whoever did this to Adam? We’re going to find them. We’ll show this won’t happen to any of the Galaxy Garrison again.”

“It just… Seems to be getting harder…” Romelle said, slowly sitting in her chair.

“What’s getting harder?” Pidge asked.

“ _This._ All of this… This death and despair, and now having to do this to one of us…” Romelle placed her head into her hands. “I’m an artist, Pidge. I draw. I color. I sculpt. I was never meant to sit here and give faces to people who didn’t have any say in how their end came to them.”

“Are you… Saying you don’t want to work at the Garrison anymore?” Pidge slowly sat on the edge of her desk.

“… I think so.” Romelle said, placing her hand over her sketchpad. “I know you need my help, but… If I have to put the face on one more child under the age of ten… Or one more face on a rape victim…”

She looked up, eyes glossing over with tears as she stared at the recreation of Adam’s face.

“Or one more friend, I… I don’t think I can do it anymore.”

“I understand it’s hard…” Pidge spoke, her voice low. “It never gets any easier… Your mental health comes first, Romelle. If you need to leave…”

She gently shrugged her shoulders.

“Hey, guys,” Allura’s head popped into the room, standing just outside the door. “Need some help over here.”

“What’s wrong?” Pidge asked, jumping off the desk. Allura waved her hand at both woman before disappearing behind the door.

Pidge and Romelle exchanged glances with one another, both clearly confused before walking out of the office.

Back to the platform, the two woman noticed that it was no longer just her coworkers up there. Not even Lance. He must not have been back from his call yet, but then who were these people?

Dressed in suits just like Lance, but far taller and buffer than he was. There were three of them, two to the back by the entrance of the platform, and one standing in front of the table where Adam’s remains lay.

Pidge and Romelle walked up on the platform after swiping an ID, looking at the men standing before them, as if standing guard at the stairs.

“What’s… Going on?” Pidge asked, looking to the tallest of the three men. A man with wild hair, but a grizzly face, and an eyepatch over one eye.

“Ladies, this is Commander Sendak.” Allura introduced, but she didn’t seem pleased. The man turned towards them, offering up what could only be described as an attempt at a smile.

“You must be Doctor Katie Holt.” He greeted, holding out his hand. Pidge crossed her arms over her chest. “It’s a pleasure to meet you. I’ve heard many good things about you.”

“Sendak?”

The giant man turned, all of them did, to see Lance at the base of the stairs. His head was tilted, his face showing some sort of happy confusion, and when he got a clear view of him, he smiled.

“Agent Lance,” Sendak walked down the stairs to greet him, holding out his hand.

“Lieutenant Sendak. It’s been a while.” Lance shook his hand, and Pidge found it almost comical how big Sendak’s hand was compared to Lance’s own.

“It’s Commander Sendak now,” The man said.

“You’ve been promoted? That’s fantastic!” Lance exclaimed. “We’ll have to go out and celebrate.”

“You two know each other?” Pidge asked pointing towards the taller of the two men.

“Yeah, Sendak here was in training with me for the army. Beat me at almost every turn.” Lance said as Pidge walked down the stairs to swipe her ID. The three of them walked back up together. “It amazed me I was promoted ahead of him.”

“Ah, but the good old days are dearly missed.” Commander Sendak said, his hands resting behind his back.

“Yeah, like your sweet car. I was outside this whole time and I didn’t even see you pull up.”

“My car is in the shop, actually.” Sendak told him. “I was driving the wife to a doctor’s appointment when we hit a deer. Just about tore the whole bumper off and kicked a hole through the windshield. It barely missed my head, but the glass gave me a nice scratch to the cornea.” He motioned to the eyepatch over his eye.

“No! Not the James Bond car!” Lance looked practically defeated. “Is it salvageable?”

“Yeah, but it’s going to cost a pretty penny to fix and have the paint job redone. I’m driving one of the cars work gave me until it’s done.” Lance practically fell apart, whimpering at the news.

“What are you doing here anyway?” He asked him, stuffing his hands in his pockets. “I never thought I’d see you again when I joined the FBI.”

“That’s actually why I’m here.” Sendak said, his expression falling. “I’m afraid to say that you’re off the case.”

“What?” Lance asked, and everyone in the room tensed. “W-What are you talking about?”

“Because Adam worked in the Pentagon, I’m afraid the FBI has lost jurisdiction of the case. This is a threat of national security now.”

“So the feds are taking Adam’s remains?” Keith asked.

“No, not exactly. You’ll be working under _us_ starting today. The FBI will have little to no involvement with the case. Lance is to hand over all of his paperwork by the end of today, and from here on out, any new developments come directly to me.” Commander Sendak explained.

“You can’t do this!” Hunk exclaimed.

“Hunk, buddy. It’s okay.” Lance held a hand up towards the man, but his face was crestfallen.

“It’s not okay, Lance.” Pidge argued, stepping up towards him. “This is _our_ case. He’s _our_ friend. They can’t just take this away from you.”

“The FBI has lost jurisdiction, Pidge. I have no say in what happens anymore.” Lance told her, his shoulders dropping.

“But-” Pidge tried to argue, she really did, but how could she?

“I do apologize for this inconvenience, but I will need a full report of your findings by tomorrow morning, if at all possible.” Sendak said, clapping his hands together.

“We answer to Lance. Not you.” Keith growled, his arms crossing over his chest.

“Keith, it’s alright.” Lance said.

“No, it’s not.” Allura argued. “What’s your clearance?” She asked, mimicking a stance to Keith’s, but her well-manicured nails tapped at her forearm while her hip jutted to one side.

It was hard to make Allura angry. Annoyed, yes. Angry? Not so much, and this was her angry.

“Pardon?” Sendak asked.

“Did you bring clearance from your commanding officer?” She questioned, tilting her head to the side. “I need paperwork. Not word of mouth.”

“I understand you need the authorization. I’ll have the paperwork to you in a few hours.” Sendak assured.

“Good. Until then, this case still falls under the FBI and Lance.”

Pidge shared a worried look with Lance, feeling the anger emanating off of the woman in sheer volume.

Sendak slowly nodded his head.

“And, for future reference,” Allura continued, stepping up to the man. Sendak was the tallest in the room, and for all of Allura’s impressive height, she looked quite small compared to him. However, that didn’t mean she didn’t have the biggest balls in the room right now. “If and when we start working for you, any and all paperwork and reports will be happily delivered to you, but know this. We are not pack rats. We catch murderers. Paperwork and reports are some of our last concerns, so you will get it all when it’s complete on _our terms.”_

Sendak’s expression didn’t flinch for a second, but Pidge swore she could feel the tension in the room becoming heavy.

Allura smiled before patting Sendak’s arm.

“I look forward to working with you.” She said, turning away from him to stand by Keith and Hunk.

“Yes… Well…” Sendak cleared his throat. “I’ll make sure to get those files to you right away. In the meantime, I’ll leave my information at your desk, Dr. Allura. If you need to reach me, you’ll know where to find me.”

“Very well.” She concluded.

Commander Sendak turned away, and without another word, or even so much as a wave of goodbye to Lance, a man who he apparently knew, he walked off of the platform.

The room fell eerily silent. Everyone shared looks with one enough, silent conversations happening before Keith finally broke the silence.

“That was fucking hot.” He said, looking towards the woman. Allura smiled before walking back to her station.

“We only have a few hours at best before Lance is taken off the case. Let’s solve this murder before that happens.” She announced, grabbing new gloves. “Hunk, figure out the composition of those chemicals. Keith, look through the photographs of the scene you took. See if you can find anything we missed.”

The two men immediately went to work.

“Romelle, Dr. Holt says she recognizes the bullet. Get the dimensions and see if ballistics can place the make and model.” Allura told her. Romelle silently nodded and walked off the platform.

“I’ll look over the bones again. Make sure there’s nothing missed.” Pidge said.

“Great,” Allura praised.

“I guess I’ll… Get the paperwork ready.” Lance muttered dejectedly, turning away to leave.

“Lance, wait.” Pidge followed him down the stairs and stopped him short of leaving. “We aren’t done yet.”

“I know, but it’s best if I do this now.” He said with a frown and slumped shoulders. “It’s a lot of clutter I need to put together, and that’s going to take some time.”

“I’m not working for him, Lance.” She said under her breath. “I’ll only work for you.”

“That makes me all warm and fuzzy inside.” He mused.

“It’s the only logical choice-”

“Please don’t.”

“Don’t what?”

“Don’t do the science thing on me. Let me have this.” Lance patted her head softly. “Now get to work if you want me to stay on the case.”

“You got it.” Pidge agreed before leaving him. She got right back to the platform after swiping her ID, going back to the table and pulling on her gloves.

“Was there anything else you found in his lungs, Allura?” Pidge asked, picking up the skull in her hands.

What was the gun? She recognized this beveling, but she just couldn’t place it.

“A lot of dust, some dirt. A lot of wood dust for some reason.” She answered.

“Maybe like… Some sort of wood storage house?” Keith questioned, pulling up the photos he had taken.

“Then how does the Nitric Oxcide and Nitrogen Dioxide play into that?” Hunk questioned.

“Maybe he was in some sort of smoke house or something.”

“Exposure to that much smog would surely affect him. This was a very limited amount.” Allura mumbled. “If the maggots hadn’t eaten the eyes, I’d have more traces of what was in his lungs.”

“Hey,” Romelle slowly walked up the steps of the platform. “I’ve got the gun.”

“What, already?” Hunk asked.

“That was fast,” Pidge pulled off her gloves after setting the skull down to take the file from her.

“It wasn’t hard. I recognize that bullet hole. It’s from a glock nineteen. Romelle said, pointing to the information she highlighted. “Ballistics confirmed. It’s a dead match for the shot to the head.”

“A glock nineteen? That’s a nice gun.” Hunk said, coming over to look at the papers.

“It leaves very little residue too.” Pidge mumbled.

“There was still some left on the skin. He must have been shot point blank for there to have been residue leftover.”

“Isn’t a glock the kind of gun police carry with them?” Keith asked.

“One of many.” Pidge said.

“… You also know who has a gun like this, right?” Romelle asked. Pidge looked up at her, seeing that horrible expression on her face like this. “… Curtis.”

Hunk’s shoulders fell.

“Curtis is in the police academy.” Keith mentioned. “He’s training to be an officer. He’d have access to guns like this.”

“Let’s not jump to conclusions.” Pidge argued, folding the paper in her hands. “I’m going to try and catch Lance before he leaves. I’ll give him this so he has something to go off of.”

“Be quick. We need to get this figured out as quickly as possible.” Allura told her as Pidge jumped over the few stairs and off of the platform.

“Yeah, before we start working for The Hulk.” Keith retorted, turning back to his computer.

* * *

Pidge rushed out of the elevators, phone in hand and staring down at the caller ID list.

Coran, Alfor, her mothers and father, Matt (Like she’d ever get an answer), Romelle, Allura, Hunk, Keith, Shiro, Curtis…

She momentarily thought about calling Shiro and giving him the news herself. See if he’d look and see if Curtis was missing a gun, or if one seemed to be fired recently, but that wasn’t her place. She had to leave it for Lance.

Lance, Lance, Lance. Where was he?

Pidge found his name in her unorganized list of names. She really needed to put his number in her favorites so she didn’t have to do this every single time. Or just memorize his number. She could that that easily.

Pidge hit dial, bringing the phone up to her ear. She waited, but the more it rang, the more her irritation went up. He was probably driving, and Lance didn’t answer his phone while he was driving, which meant she had missed him. He didn’t have Bluetooth in his car either, so he wouldn’t be able to connect the call.

_“Hey, this is Special Agent Lance McClain of the FBI-”_

_“And you’re reached my porn line-!”_

_“Shh, Luis! This is important. Uh, this is Lance McClain of the FBI. Please leave your name and number and a brief message and I’ll get back to you as soon as I can. Thanks, bye.”_

She wondered when he’d ever change that recording.

Pidge stuffed her phone back in her pocket, sighing as she started walking back to the elevators, but stopped at the loud screech of a car. Pidge covered her ears as she turned around, but then everything was turned upside down.

Searing pain flooded every part of her body, her lungs were aching for air, and her vision was wonky. She gasped for air, feeling like it was being stolen from her, while simultaneously trying to focus on the world around her.

Her vision was darkening around the edges. She saw her phone in the distance, but too far away. Far out of her reach, and even thinking about moving killed her brain.

She tried to get her arms under her, but there was a painful stab in her side. Her ribs were rippling with pain. She tried to push her legs under her, but the pain from them was even worse. Lifting her head proved to be too great a task, and through her blurry vision, she thought she saw blood. Lots of blood.

Her lips parted on a pained groan, somewhere in her muddled mind thinking that she needed to call out for help, but nothing was coming out. Her lungs were constricting and her brain was muddled. She squeezed her eyes shut tight and opened them again, but the whole world span on her.

She felt the vague presence of something on her arm. Something grabbed at it and flipped her around. Pidge saw a tall figure silhouetted in black standing over her for only a moment, but a moment long enough that she knew some _one_ was there.

Pain racketed her body as the ground disappeared from under her. It took all of the strength in her pluck a button off her lab coat and let it fall to the ground, and then another, and then another. Each one came off slowly before the feeling of cool leather seats encompassed her.

She recognized the soft tune of violin playing. It wasn’t loud, but to her muddled mind, the music was blaring.

Pidge tried again to call out for help, but nothing would come out. All that came out was a weak whimper before everything went black.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> EYOOOOO   
> Guess who forgot to add the second part of this until just now~~~  
> Truthfully I didn't feel like this was ready. Still don't, but uh...  
> Fuck it.

“That’s… Everything.”

It’d taken him an hour and a half after getting back to his office, but Lance had managed to gather all of his reports and files together for Commander Sendak. All of the files on Adam, his remains, and everything leading up to it.

Lance had even found a few files Adam had been working on leading up to his death. A very interesting case that led to this turn of events, and he wondered if they were connected.

Adam had been working on a drug smuggling case. It looked like he was getting close to the leader of the operations before his passing, and it could only leave the FBI agent wondering if it had any connection. In most cases that would be the case.

If he had the time, he’d chase down these findings, the list of people named in the drug smuggling, and everything in between. He’d question anyone and everyone until he got his answers, but now he couldn’t.

Everything that was left of Adam was all in a box big enough to fit a stack of paper, and ready to go out.

Lance plopped down in his chair with a sigh, blinking back his exhaustion. It wasn’t like his sleep hadn’t been peaceful last night. After what he and Pidge had done, that had been some of the best sleep he’d gotten since…

Since he could remember?

His lips pursed as he thought about it, eyes closing as he imagined her skin, so soft and wet against his. Her breaths, her mewls, and the way her lips parted on every sound she made. The way she said his name and only his name.

Yeah, thinking about her with that Regris guy made his blood curdle, but he’d never admit that out loud. He couldn’t.

Pidge didn’t see him that way. She didn’t care for him. Her feelings didn’t extend as far as his did for her, and he’d never say it to her face.

Pidge was a woman of science. To her, he was…

He sighed.

A nobody.

He jumped out of his thoughts when his phone rang, head tilting to the side to look at it laying on his desk. He entertained the idea of not answering it, but with the idea that this case would go nowhere for him, he picked it up.

Hunk’s name flashed across the screen, along with one missed call from Pidge. It must have been something important.

“Hello…?” He answered, sitting up to organize himself at his desk.

_ “Hey Lance,” _ Hunk said, sounding a little distressed.

“Hey buddy. What’s up?” He asked.

_ “So like. Did Pidge go with you for questioning or something?”  _ Hunk questioned, and for a moment it sounded like someone said something in the background. It sounded like Keith.

“No, why…?” Lance frowned.

_ “Well when she went to get you I thought maybe you decided to go talk to Curtis or something.”  _ Hunk explained.

“She went to get me for what?”

_ “… She didn’t catch you?” _ Hunk’s voice seemed to grow quiet.

“Catch me for what? What am I missing here?” Lance asked.

_ “Give me the phone.” _

_ “What- Hey! What the-?” _

_ “Give me the phone!” _

There was a small tussle on the other end of the call.

_ “Lance…?” _ Keith’s voice came through.

“Uh, yeah?”

_ “Is Pidge with you or not?” _

“No, why?” Lance asked.

_ “Just after you left, we tracked down the model of the gun used to shoot Adam. Pidge said she was going to catch you before you left and she hasn’t come back since.” _

The words sent a chill down Lance’s spine.

“… She’s not with you?” He questioned, the grip around his phone growing weak.

_ “No, that’s why we’re asking you where she is!” _

“Okay, okay, just…” Lance huffed in exasperation. “Stay there. I’m coming over.”

_ “Alright. We’ll head down to the garage. Maybe she just went out and forgot to tell us.” _

The probability of that was highly unlikely. Pidge didn’t do things like that.

“Alright, meet you there.” Lance answered as he stood up, grabbing his gun off the desk. 

* * *

Lance parked in the first handicap spot he could find on the first floor, sparing no time for concerns. His first priority was figuring out why Pidge wasn’t with anyone, and when that was said and done, he’d properly park somewhere else.

He got out of his car and ran up the driveway to the second floor. Not far off, he could see Hunk pacing, on the phone with someone, but it didn’t seem like he was talking.

“Hunk!” He called out. The bigger man saw him and met him halfway. Lance could safely say he had never seen Hunk run that fast in his life.

“Come here,” Hunk spoke breathlessly, and not from the running. He pushed his phone into his pocket and grabbed Lance’s hand before practically dragging him to where the others stood, standing around something he couldn’t see right away. Not until he got right to it.

Lance’s breath turned cold.

A pool of blood.

“Holy shit…” He uttered, looking at the others.

“T-That’s a lot of blood…” Romelle stuttered.

“Is that fatal?” Lance asked.

“N-No, not fatal, but…” Allura faltered in her words, her hands tangling in the roots of her hair. “If whoever this was kept bleeding like this, they’d bleed out in…”

“In…?” Lance questioned. “In what?”

“Hours? Maybe? I-I can’t know for sure without knowing how much blood came out and at what rate...”

“Fuck…” Lance hissed, running his fingers through his hair. “It’s already been… Two and a half hours since I left.” He said.

“Okay, so if this happened ten minutes after she left-” Hunk stopped when Keith left them, walking towards a car parked against the wall. “Keith, what are you doing?”

Keith bent down on the ground, looking under it. He sat back long enough to pull a napkin from his pocket before reaching under the car. He leaned back, holding up a cellphone he found tucked under the wheel of a car.

“Oh god…” Allura breathed, her voice shaking as she brought a hand up to cover her mouth.

“That’s Pidge’s phone…” Lance said.

“S-So this is…” Hunk looked down at the pool of blood. “Oh god… That’s…”

“That motherfucker has her.” Keith bit out, using the tissue to unlock her phone. “It has to be the guy that killed Adam. He did the same thing to her that he did to him.”

“She’s still alive…” Lance muttered, looking around. “It hasn’t been that long. She still has to be alive.”

“I’ll go to the security office and look at the security tapes.” Allura said, quickly running towards the elevators.

“I’m coming with you!” Romelle quickly followed.

“Is there anything on there that can give us an idea of where she is?” Lance asked Keith.

“The only recent thing on here is that she called you at ten twenty.” Keith said.

“You missed her call?” Hunk asked.

“I-It must have been while I was driving! I didn’t see I had a missed call from her until you called me,” Lance explained.

Fuck, how could this happen? Why didn’t he answer his phone? Had he done that, he could have stopped what happened.

“Okay, okay.” Lance clapped his hands. “Think people think. Use those big brains of yours. Paint a picture here. What the fuck happened?”

“Pidge doesn’t like us forming scenarios.” Hunk reminded them.

“In this situation I think it’s okay to do it just once, Hunk.” Lance argued, looking around.

“Okay, uh…” Keith stood up from the ground, walking towards the elevator. “She was trying to catch you. She must have run this way.”

“Okay, what else?” Lance asked.

“She ran over. She couldn’t find you,” Keith spread out his hands, as if imagining him in her place. “She called you, but you didn’t answer.”

“What else, Keith? What evidence can we get from this?”

“S-She uh…” Keith faltered. “She was heading back. My guess is the car came around this corner and hit her.”

“There’s blood splatter over there though,” Hunk pointed in the direction he spoke of. “It would make sense the car came from down the ramp instead of up. The killer wouldn’t have to turn his car around, so it’d be a quicker get away.”

“Right, okay, so…” Keith squeezed his eyes shut tightly.

“So what?” Lance barked. “What happened next?”

“Don’t fucking yell at me, Lance! I’m doing the best I can!” Keith bit out, his fist clenching around her phone.

“Guys, guys. Slow down.” Hunk stepped between them before things got physical. Lance and Keith didn’t always see eye to eye, and that sometimes led to altercations that got a bit out of hand. “Stop yelling. Yelling won’t help us play out a situation or get us evidence.”

“Okay, okay…” Keith took a few slow, deep breaths. “The killer came down the ramp. He was leaving, hit her…”

He stopped, looking around the area. There had to be something. Fingerprints. Clues.  _ Something _ left behind.

And then he spotted it.

It was far away, but he saw the shine of a small white button against the asphalt. He ran up to it, bending down and looking at it.

He knew this button. His lab coat had these buttons too.

He frantically looked about until he saw another, and then another.

“Is that a button?” Hunk asked.

“She left a trail…” Keith muttered, pointing to where the pool of blood lay. “She was barely conscious. Pidge pulled the buttons off of her jacket and used them to indicate where she was hit.”

“What are you talking about? The blood is right there!” Lance argued.

“Yeah, but the last button is here!” Keith pointed out. “That means the car hit her right here. Pidge  _ landed  _ right there.”

“She went that far?” Hunk gaped. It must have been a ten foot gap between where the car would have been and where she landed.

“Whatever hit her was a heavy duty car. You can’t go that fast in here, so only a big car could make someone go back that far at a slower speed.”

“So we aren’t looking for a sports car now. We’re looking for some sort of minivan or something.” Lance said.

“I’d say something heavier than that. I don’t see any car parts or anything like that. If he hit her that hard, a regular car would lose something. This was a really strong car.”

“What kind of cars have that kind of support?” Hunk questioned, his mind racing miles a minute.

“Uh, trucks like Fords, Toyota, and Volvos. Jeeps, out backs, rams-”

“Police cars…” Hunk interrupted Lance’s listing.

Lance saw it. The way Hunk and Keith shared a concerned look, a silent conversation happening between them.

“What, what?” He asked. “What are you talking about?”

“It keeps going back to Curtis…” Keith uttered.

“What keeps going back to Curtis? I’m the FBI agent here, people! Fill me in!” Lance all but yelled.

“The reason Pidge left in the first place was because we found out the model of the gun used to kill Adam.” Hunk told him.

“A glock nineteen.” Keith added. “Which is used by officers.”

“Curtis is in the police academy, Lance. He would have access to a gun like that.” Hunk said.

“And a car like that.” Keith continued on.

Lance’s heart sank the more he thought about it. All of the facts, all of the evidence was pointing back to Curtis. The gun used, the make of the car, but wait-

“No,” Lance shook his head. “No, Curtis didn’t do this.”

“Lance…” Hunk breathed. “All of the evidence points back to him.”

“Except two things,” Lance held up two fingers. “One, the sports car that hit Adam, and two, the motive. Curtis doesn’t have any motive to kill Adam.”

“Maybe… Shiro was thinking of getting back together with Adam?” Keith supplanted.

“Now you’re doing exactly what Pidge hates.” Lance began walking away from them, heading towards the elevator.

“W-Where are you going?” Hunk asked.

“The only thing that will give us answers is Adam’s body. Wherever he was killed, I’m sure the killer took Pidge to. Adam is the only one who can tell us where to find her.”

The three of them piled into the elevator, Keith still clutching Pidge’s phone in the napkin. The ride up to the main floor was agonizingly slow, but when they got up, they made a mad dash to the platform.

Allura and Romelle were already there, the blonde woman pacing while Allura frantically examined the bones.

“What happened at the security office?” Lance asked as they walked up.

“The video feed was cut.” Romelle told him.

“What…?” Keith gaped at her.

“It was cut for exactly ten minutes. You see Pidge getting off of the elevator, and then it cuts out. When it comes back on, all you see is her blood on the ground.” She explained.

“And security didn’t think to check that?” Lance barked, his hands flailing at his sides.

“They thought it was a spilled drink. It’s hard to make out a difference on those tiny screens.”

“That’s such bullshit!”

“Lance, calm down…” Allura berated, holding up Adam’s mandible, her blue eyes laser focused on it. “Getting worked up is not going to find Pidge.”

As much as he hated to admit it, she was right. Him yelling and cussing wasn’t going to find her. Action was. So that was exactly what he had to do.

“Alright,” Lance composed himself quickly and walked up to the table. “The answers are right here, guys. Adam can tell us what we need to know.”

* * *

The world around her was dark and murky. The smell of dust left her nose tickling and her eyes watering, but she could make out the faint smell of gas somewhere in the distance.

She took in a deep breath, but her ribs ached. She tried to lift her head, but she only managed to look up a little with how heavy it felt.

The world was spinning. She felt horribly dizzy, and at the same time she could make out a pain blossoming from her leg. She tried hard to move it, but she couldn’t.

Come to think of it, she couldn’t move her arms either.

A strike of panic arose in her chest as she forced her eyes up more, moved more, and wiggled about. She tried to call out, but she found something like cotton wedged between her teeth. All she could get out was a mangled groan.

She looked around frantically, eyes taking in everything. A basement? No, it was too bright. A chained fence was in front of her with the gate cracked open, but the other three walls were solid frameworks with sheets of metal in between. A table was off to her right, a few things on it she couldn’t see from this distance without her glasses. The smell of gas was stronger now that she thought about it, and on top of that she smelled wood.

A gas smell and wood. Pallets? Work load pallets would cause that kind of smell, especially along with the mold she could smell beneath it.

The iron framework was old and dusty. Cobwebs littered the corners of the walls made out of steel.

That’s it.

A warehouse.

She was in an abandoned warehouse.

Pidge struggled against her bindings, but moving her legs was proving to be too much. She wanted to scream with so much as twitching her right leg. Her arms were in no better condition, but they weren’t in nearly as much pain. However, whoever tied her to this spot, a metal chair it seemed, cut off the circulation in her arms. They were cold.

Looking down, she saw that her right leg was bruised and swollen. Far more so than her left one. While she definitely felt like something was broken in there, something was really wrong with the right one. She could see through the tears in her pants that the skin on her right leg was purple. It wasn’t cold though. In fact, that couldn’t be farther from the truth.

Her leg was on fire. It was burning with pain shooting up and down her leg. Even so much as thinking of moving her leg caused pain to rush through it and make her eyes tear up.

Compartment syndrome. Just like Adam had.

“Ah, did you wake up?”

The single voice in the room had shivers go down her spine.

Pidge wiggled in the chair, looking about the room and searching out for the voice.

A large hand rested against her shoulder, and with all of her might she forced her head up, fighting the feeling of nausea rolling through her stomach.

She glared hard, anger shooting through her at the smug grin of the man in front of her.

She tried to say his name, but it was muffled by the fabric in her mouth.

“I’m surprised you’re this coherent. You hit your head pretty hard on the way down.”

Her eyes followed him, watching as he walked around her, fingers pulling on her hair. She felt the tug of the fabric against her mouth before it came loose, and she was able to speak.

“Sendak…” She growled, breathing through the overwhelming nausea.

“How are you feeling, Doctor Holt?” He asked her, walking to the table with things on it she couldn’t see. “Light headed? Dizzy? Nauseous? That was quite a spill you had.”

“Y-You…” She struggled to get her words out. “You h-hit me with your car.”

“I just didn’t see you around that corner.” He mused.

“You killed Adam…” She growled, pulling on her left leg. The binding on it didn’t feel nearly as tight as it did on her right leg.

“What makes you say that?” He asked. She shuddered when he held up a knife.

“Lance said you had a James Bond car. James Bond’s car is grey… Better yet,  _ granite pearl.” _ She said, watching the way Sendak’s head turned to the side ever so slightly, his ear pointed more towards her. “And it’s somehow in the shop because you hit a dear, huh?”

“A coincidence.” He remarked.

“Coincidence’s aren’t real.” She argued.

Sendak took in a heavy breath, letting out a long sigh as his fingers grazed the blade of the knife.

Pidge wiggled her leg again despite the pain, feeling the knot tied behind it uncoiling.

“You’re a very perceptive woman, Doctor Holt.” He said, turning to her. Pidge yanked harder on her leg, her arms wiggling about, but the binding on them was tight. Tighter than on her leg. “The world will surely be at a loss without you.”

“You aren’t going to beat him…” She hissed under her breath. Sendak stopped in front of her, a grin parting his lips. “Lance will stop you. He’ll travel to the ends of the earth to find me.”

“Agent McClain?” He barked out a laugh, hands pressing to his stomach. Pidge took the opportunity to lift her leg up, yanking on the binding until he stopped laughing. “That  _ child _ is wrapped around my finger. You’re better off hoping for homeless people to find you first.”

“You’re underestimating him.” Pidge grinned. “There’s a reason he got promoted above you faster.”

Sendak’s smile fell, clearly not happy with the comment. He let out another sigh, holding up the knife close to her cheek.

“Why don’t we start with that pretty mouth of yours?” He mused, bending down to be at eye level with her and pressing the blade into the corner of her mouth.

Pidge winced, feeling the prickling heat of the blade pierce her skin before she yanked her leg free. The pain was intense, but it went ignored as she kicked into his leg. It gave her the momentum to push the chair up on two legs, just enough for her foot to reach his face and kick right into his nose. The force sent him backwards, a gush of blood torrenting from his nose, but her as well, knocking back into the floor where her arm was painfully trapped under the chair.

The chair dug hard into her skin, the rusty metal cutting the skin of her arms. Her leg ached with the use of it, and it took everything in her not to cry out in pain. She had to push past the pain. Ignore it. Forget it was there long enough to leave.

She had to get out of here. She had to move.

She would have liked to at least.

Sendak groaned in pain as he sat up, rubbing at his nose. Pidge watched as blood trickled down his lips, and at any other time she would have felt very proud of herself, but she didn’t. Not when hardened eyes landed on her and he picked up the blade.

“I was going to let you suffer…” He said, standing from the ground. Pidge wiggled in the chair, but it seemed the rest of her entrapment wasn’t coming loose anytime soon. “After all. A woman like you surely would have put the pieces together in no time. Adam’s case would have been brought to light in no time, and you’re smart enough to connect the dots. I couldn’t let that happen, but the longer you suffer, the more the evidence complies against me…”

Pidge’s breath heaved with effort to move, but nothing was happening.

“Compartment syndrome hurts, doesn’t it? The longer it goes untreated, the more pain is caused.”

Pidge couldn’t kick at him anymore with her leg trapped against the floor, instead fidgeting to crawl away as best as she could. Sendak grabbed her bad leg and tugged, sending a shooting pain up her whole body, enough to make her cry out.

“Adam was in so much pain from it. He pleaded for it all to end, but… I couldn’t let that happen. Not when he came so close to finding out. Not when he took down so many of my men…”

Pidge screeched in her throat when Sendak shoved the knife into the hole of her pant leg and yanked up. It jerked her leg in a painful way as he shredded her jeans, cutting off everything from the knee down.

“One incision would easily take care of the problem. Release the blood flow, and the swelling stops.”

Pidge’s eyes widened, quickly looking about for anything in sight. Something, anything she could use to help her stop him, but there was nothing. Even if there was, her hands were immobilized.

“I would try not to resist the pain. This sort of pain… Can send people into shock…”

Pidge cried out at the press of the knife into her skin. The pain emanated so fast, so hard that her sight blurred around the edges, but it wasn’t nearly as bad as he pressed in and dragged the knife down her leg slowly, painfully.

Then everything went black.

* * *

“There’s got to be something here. Something we missed.” Allura mumbled, more to herself than the others. The others heard though, looking over Adam’s bones for any clues. Anything that could lead them to where Pidge was.

“Could it have been something we missed with the flesh? Something we didn’t learn about soon enough?” Keith asked, holding up the metal implant that was Adam’s leg.

“No, I looked over his skin and organs multiple times. Tox screen came back negative for any drugs besides his prescriptions in his systems.” She reminded him.

“You must have missed something,” Lance said, pointing to the screen with her well-kept and neatly filed documents arranged before them. “Something is missing here!”

“I don’t miss anything,” Allura bit out, trying hard to keep her composure, but with Lance standing over them like this, biting their heads off, it wasn’t easy.

“It’s gotta be that odd compound.” Romelle mentioned, looking to Hunk. “It has to mean something.”

“It does, but I don’t know what!” Hunk ran his fingers through his hair haphazardly. “It’s a chemical solution, but-”

“No, buts! We need answers here, people!” Lance barked, smacking his hand into the computer screen. “This! What does this mean? You’re supposed to be the best in the world!”

“Lance, don’t make me have you thrown out of here.” Allura warned, her eyes narrowed in on him and only him.

“You can’t do that,” He huffed.

“Then let my people do their job.” She said, walking to the computer and pulling up a file. “Romelle is right. Whatever this is, is the answer.”

“Can you run it through the database and see if anything comes up, Romelle?” Keith asked her.

“I did. The only thing I got was car exhaust, which I assumed came from the car used to hit Adam.”

“No, sports cars don’t give off that kind of exhaust.” Lance said, looking over the words and numbers that made no sense to him.

“So what gives off that kind of exhaust?” Keith asked, looking over his shoulder. “What, like, a tank?”

“A forklift...” Hunk answered for him, his eyes widening. He ran between the three of them and began typing up something, something too fast for Lance to catch until it was on the screen. “Nitric Oxcide and Nitrogen Dioxide create a smog of fuel exhaust that comes out of the engine.”

“Not enough to kill someone or do damage to their lungs unless over an extended period of time,” Allura mumbled. It all made sense.

“Okay, so Pidge is somewhere with a forklift. Where all have forklifts?” Lance asked.

“Docking stations, ports,” Keith listed off. “Warehouses, work sites-”

“A warehouse…” Romelle uttered. “She’s probably in one that’s abandoned.”

Lance was already on the move. He pulled his phone from his pocket and dialed up what he needed to.

“Yeah, I need a list of all abandoned warehouses within a twenty mile radius of here.” He said into his phone, waiting for the person he spoke with to do just that.

“A warehouse would explain the mold and dust we found, plus the fibers of wood stuck to Adam’s clothes.” Hunk said.

“Allura, do me a favor and get ahold of Sendak. Let him know what’s going on.” Lance told her, impatiently waiting for the person to get back to him.

“Got it,” Allura ran off the platform and to her office faster than anyone had seen her run ever.

Lance’s attention turned back to the phone against his shoulder, taking in the words the person was telling him. He took everything in greedily, like a starving man.

Allura ran back to the platform, her cellphone in hand, as she shucked on her jacket.

“Great, thanks…” Lance hung up the phone.

“That was quick.” Romelle mentioned.

“A couple of hours ago someone made a call to the police to report that they saw a man walking into an abandoned warehouse off of route two-o-two with a woman in his arms. They didn’t see much else.” Lance stuffed his phone in his pocket. “Let’s go.”

“All of us?” Keith asked him.

“Yeah, all of us!”

“Sendak isn’t answering his phone,” Allura spoke up, pulling her phone away from her ear when his voicemail spoke.

“Lance,” Keith stopped him by grabbing his shoulder. “You said Sendak had a sports car, right?”

“Yeah, a James’s Bone car, why?” He asked him.

“What color was it?”

“Grey, wh-?”

He stopped.

He didn’t have that car anymore. It was in the shop.

And Sendak wasn’t answering his phone.

“… That son of a bitch.” Lance hissed before running for the doors. Everyone ran out, all except for Romelle, who stayed behind for a brief second. A second long enough to look over her shoulder at the remains of their friend.

A friend who was able to give them the answers they needed to save Pidge.

It could have been anyone. It just happened to be him, but their collective teamwork put together the pieces of the puzzle.

Without her mentioning car exhaust, they would have never known where to look. They would have lost another one. Another friend. Another member of their family. 

“… Thank you, Adam…” She mumbled, before turning away to catch up with the others.

This was why she did this.

* * *

Pidge woke up with a start, eyes widening and sweat dripping down her forehead as something tore through her subconscious mind and woke her up.

Her eyes frantically searched her surroundings, hoping that everything up until now had been a long, painful dream, but alas, it hadn’t. She was still trapped in the same room, smelled the same smell of moldy wood, and still saw the same, disgusting face of her captor.

“Ah, you’re awake,” Sendak mentioned, turning around. A drill was between his fingers, and judging by the tone of the sound, she figured he had revved that up to wake her up. “I thought I killed you. I’m glad to see you up.”

Pidge tried to talk, she really did, but the taste of something oily, along with the sensation of cotton in her mouth stopped her. Pidge panicked, shifting her weight from side to side, but she was completely immobilized now. Even her leg that she had freed earlier was tied down to the point it was cold.

She couldn’t make a sound.

She screamed into what she could only assume was something tied around her mouth judging by the tightness around her jawline, but her voice was muffled so terribly that it wouldn’t even leave the room.

The one good thing she could see out of all of this was that the pain in her leg was gone. There was a dull ache and a few stabs of sharpness, but otherwise, the intense pain she’d felt before was gone, however long ago it was.

Oh god, how long had she been out for? What time was it? What  _ day  _ was it?

“How’s the leg? Better?” Sendak asked, setting down the drill. Pidge rubbed her tongue against whatever it was wrapped around her mouth, but it wouldn’t budge. So instead of an answer, she glared at him. “I hope so. I may be CPR certified, but I’m definitely not qualified to do a surgery. Much less one where I can’t even stitch someone up.”

Pidge spared a hesitant glance down. Her leg was wrapped up, but blood had seeped through what she could only assume was her lab coat tied around her leg as a makeshift bandage.

“I’m glad you’re feeling better. I wouldn’t want your suffering over my head.”

Pidge mumbled a response into the tying around her mouth, a snarky comment that would have done well to piss him off.

Ah, if only he’d heard it. She’d surely smile.

Sendak set the drill down, and though it was short, Pidge allowed herself a moment to feel a sense of relief. Only a moment, however, before he picked up a knife.

Pidge flailed her body from side to side, shuffled her knees, and twisted her arms, but nothing was budging. Nothing was moving. Nothing was giving way, and every moment spelled more doom. More towards the end of her life.

She watched as he came close, and for once in her life, Pidge didn’t try to stop the tears from building up in her eyes, or slipping down her cheeks.

“You must wonder about Adam.” He said, running his finger down the blade. Pidge saw the remains of her blood, dried and crusted on the sharp blade. She must have been unconscious for hours. “Why did I do it? To what prevail?”

Pidge huffed into her binding, leaning back into her seat when he held the blade up close to her face.

“Adam was coming close to a breakthrough on a huge smuggling operation. A breakthrough that would have surely launched his career forward, but we couldn’t let that happen. The more that’s brought into the country, the more I make, and you see… I just couldn’t let him find out about it.”

Pidge wanted to yell. She wanted to scream.

That was it? Adam was coming close to shedding a light on some sort of “deal” that Sendak felt the need to get rid of him?

“Of course it was quite easy to find a target for his murder. Shiro and Curtis are too easy a target not to pin this on.”

Pidge hissed at him, though muffled, and not without some drool coating her cheek through the binding.

He wouldn’t get away with this. He wouldn’t. Lance would never let him see the light of day again once he found her.

If he found her?

Pidge felt hot tears slipping down her neck as she cried gently into the cloth in her mouth, picturing Lance’s face, maybe for the last time.

No. Definitely for the last time. There was no time left.

Sendak held the blade up, pressing it against the skin of her neck.

“Don’t worry. Unlike Adam, I don’t feel a need to punish you.” He pressed harder. “Your death will be swift. A quick cut through the jugular. You’ll be out in seven seconds. Dead in thirty. You won’t even notice it.”

Pidge cried out as loudly as she could, wincing at the feeling of the knife prickling her flesh before a loud pop sounded.

She jumped, blood splattering into her face, warm and wet, before forcing her eyes open to the scene in front of her.

Of Sendak’s body on the ground, knife far away. Blood everywhere, splattered into the wall by his side, remnants of his brains plastered into the metal sheeting, where a bullet hole had shot through.

“Pidge!”

Pidge looked up, screeching into the cloth at the sight of Lance running into the room, gun in hand. A few more men with guns drawn, more FBI agents with bullet vests on, came in with him. One even kicked the knife away from Sendak’s lifeless body as Lance ran up to her.

She cried out, tears running down her cheeks as relief filled her body. Lance bent down and reached behind her, undoing the bindings around her wrists.

“Shh, shh, it’s alright.”

Once her arms were free, Pidge yanked the cloth out of her mouth, what she now saw as part of her lab coat, and wrapped her arms around Lance, crying into his neck.

“I got you, Pidge. I got you.” He whispered, running his hands over her arms and up, one into her hair, and the other holding the small of her back. “Shh, I got you babe. It’s okay…”

Pidge choked on her uneven breathing, on her tears, and on her snot, but she couldn’t stop crying. Not once in her life had she felt this sort of relief. Not enough to have her cry. Not enough to have her leaning into a man’s arms, cradling herself against him like he was her protection.

No, that wasn’t the truth. He  _ was  _ her protection.

Lance had saved her life.

“H-How did you find me?” She asked, voice shaking as much as she was.

“Hunk and Keith figured out what those chemicals in Adam’s lungs were…” Lance whispered. He was shaking too.

Pidge didn’t have much to say to that. She never doubted them for a second, but she doubted the time it would take to save her.

Pidge curled into Lance’s arms, fingers tangling into his blazer with a white knuckled grip and holding on like her life depended on it. Maybe it did. Not so much anymore, but she didn’t care. She couldn’t let go.

Lance reached down to undo the rope around her legs, releasing the pressure on her open wound before scooping her knees into his arms.

“O-Ow…” Pidge whimpered, but barely. Truthfully, had Sendak not done what he did, she probably would be dead from shock right about now. It hurt, but the pain was tolerable until she got proper treatment.

“Sorry. Let’s get you out of here…” Lance told her, picking her up in his arms.

Pidge rested her head in Lance’s neck as he carried her, and not once did her hands leave him. She wasn’t ready to let go. She didn’t think she ever would be again.

“All clear. We got her.” A man spoke into his walkie talkie. Pidge paid him no mind. Only let the world around her dull into silence as Lance carried her safely in his arms.

After a few quiet minutes of walking, the sun finally hit her skin. Pidge winced at the bright light of day, though looking up, she realized that it was getting close to sunset.

“Pidge!”

“Katie!”

“Dr. Holt!”

Pidge lifted her head at the multiple times her name in any of its forms was called out. She saw many people nearby, from a swat team on standby, to police armed and ready, to news vans with news anchors on the scene, and then her friends. Her only family, standing behind the yellow caution tape and smiling at the sight of her.

“Lance…” Pidge whispered, feeling a sudden rush of exhaustion wash over her. Or maybe that was the blood loss. It was hard to tell at this point.

“Hang in there, Pidge. We’re going to get you to the hospital.” Lance told her, walking over to the nearest ambulance.

Their friends ran up to them, a flurry of emotions and words too quick for her to comprehend. She was too tired now. Too sleepy. She didn’t know how to cope with so much going on at once anymore it seemed.

So she didn’t. Instead, she closed her eyes, letting in Lance’s natural ocean smell take over her senses.

* * *

When she opened her eyes, Pidge saw a dark room. Not dark like the abandoned warehouse, but darker, with light shining in from a hall behind a door.

She wasn’t alone.

Looking around, Pidge found herself in a hospital bed. Both of her legs were securely wrapped, one in a cast, and the other in a boot, and beside her laid Keith’s head, resting on top of her hand. To her side, Romelle was sitting upright in her chair, head resting in her hand, but her eyes were closed. She’d somehow fallen asleep sitting up.

Hunk and Allura were on a couch by her bed, fast asleep in uncomfortable positions to accommodate the small space, and Lance?

He was nowhere to be seen. At least not at first.

Just as the rush of panic hit her, he stepped out of the bathroom attached to her room, sniffling a bit like he was trying to get his senses together.

Pidge smiled sleepily at him, blinking back exhaustion to stay awake just long enough to talk to him. 

“Hey…” She whispered. Lance looked no less than surprised to see her awake, but that surprise gave way to a relieved smile. A smile that stretched his cheeks wide apart, his blue eyes shining at her in the dark, but illuminated by the glow from a nearby TV.

“Hey you…” He replied, slowly making his way to her bed. “How do you feel?” He asked.

“I feel pretty good right now…” She answered, taking a deep, clean breath of air in before letting out a sigh. Lance laughed under his breath as he ran his fingers through her fringe.

“I bet. You’re doped up on painkillers.” He told her.

Pidge closed her eyes, enjoying the soft, gentle touch of his fingers in her hair, the pad of his thumb rubbing circles on her forehead. They fell quiet for a few seconds, and in that time, Pidge felt like she could fall asleep again with how careful he was with her.

She opened her eyes slowly at the soft kiss placed on her forehead. A gentle touch that would otherwise startle her had it been done in front of their friends while they were awake, but they were all asleep.

They were otherwise alone, and she was okay with that, but something told her she’d be okay even if everyone saw.

“Get some sleep, Pidge. You need your rest.” He told her, standing straight, fingers trailing away from her head.

“Don’t…” She stopped short, her words stuck on her tongue. Lance’s head tilted, eyes searching in the dark until she was able to get them out. “Don’t… Don’t leave me… Please…”

He smiled before reaching back to pull up a chair. When he was able to sit, he took up her free hand and held it between his palms.

“I wasn’t going anywhere, Pidge…”

* * *

“So, since you’re all jumpy and stuff, I should warn you…” Lance began. Pidge looked up from her lap, eyes catching sight of her apartment door before turning in her wheelchair to look at Lance.

“Yeah…?” She asked. Lance stopped and rounded the chair, kneeling down beside her. She watched him, frowning at the odd expression on his face, one she couldn’t read. Not that she was good with people and their emotions, but this one was peculiar to say the least.

Lance reached up, brushing her severely overgrown bangs from her face and tucking them behind her ear. Pidge closed her eyes, enjoying the gentle touch, the cool skin of his fingers and the pin pricks it left behind. He cupped her cheek, and when Pidge opened her eyes, she thought for a moment of how close they were. How she could just lean forward and-

“Everyone from the Garrison set up a surprise welcome home party in there for you.”

Moment over.

“Ugh, I hate surprise parties.” Pidge grumbled, leaning back in her seat. Lance chuckled under his breath, patting her shoulder before standing.

“That’s why I’m warning you now. Sparing you the heart attack.” He said, wheeling her up to her door. “Well I guess we’ll just go inside your apartment then!”

“Why are you yelling?” Pidge asked, wincing at the loud tone of his voice. Lance shot her a glare, and for a second longer than it should have, Pidge blinked back confusion. “Oh…”

“Act surprised.” He whispered, before taking the keys she offered him. Lance unlocked her front door, opening it to a dark room. She knew why.

When he turned on the lights, Pidge still jumped when everyone jumped from behind her furniture, a loud shout of “ _ surprise _ ” ringing through her apartment. She smiled anyway, shaking her head as she looked about all of the smiling, happy faces in her apartment.

“You guys are awful.” She berated, but it wasn’t whole heartedly. She couldn’t be mad at the sight of her friends all around her, and even some faces she hadn’t seen in a while. People from other departments she normally didn’t see on a day to day basis.

“Welcome home, sweetie!” Romelle was the first to run up and hug her, and Pidge could quickly smell the scent of alcohol on her breath. Looks like the party had already begun.

“How many of those have you had, Romelle?” Lance asked, taking the cup she held and bringing it up to his nose to sniff.

“What’s a party without a little booze, ya know?” She asked. There was a cacophony of laughter from everyone in the room, Lance wheeling Pidge further into the apartment and shutting the door behind him.

“Well then I should join the fun.” Pidge agreed, reaching for the cup in Lance’s hand. He held it far from her reach.

“Not with the pain killers you’re on.” He remarked before handing Romelle her drink.

“What…?”

“Oh come on, Lance. You’re no fun.” Romelle mused.

“I’m not driving you home again, Romelle.” Keith spoke up, walking over to toss his arm over Pidge’s shoulder.

“Nose goes,” Lance said, poking a finger into his nose. Everyone else did so, but the last to do it was Hunk, who’d been talking with an old friend of theirs. Pidge hadn’t seen Shay in over six months, longer than the others since she didn’t work in their department, but the woman was still quick to beat him at everything, including putting her finger on her nose.

“What- Oh come on!” Hunk flailed an arm.

“Katie,” The woman twisted in her seat, smiling when she saw Shiro walk up with open arms. Behind him was Curtis, a drink in hand and a big smile on his face. “Welcome home, Katie,” Shiro said, hugging her.

“Shiro, I’ve told you before. You can call me Pidge.” She said, patting his back while getting a whiff of his wood scented cologne.

“I’m sorry. I’m just so used to it. You never let Matt or your parents call you it, so…” He shrugged his shoulders.

“How come he gets to call you Pidge and I don’t?” Lance asked with a roll of his eyes. He knew why. It’d never stop him of course.

“Katie, I just want to thank you.” Curtis spoke up, holding out his hand. Pidge rolled her eyes as well before hugging his hip.

“For what?”

“You saved my life.” He said, rubbing her shoulder. “Allura told me everything. Had it not been for you, I would have been in jail for a murder I didn’t commit. Adam was my friend too, and everyone just…” Curtis looked somber.

“You’re all thanking the wrong person.” She said. Multiple pairs of eyes fell to her, confused. “I mean… Had Lance not killed Sendak in time, I wouldn’t be here.” She continued on, eyes falling to her lap. Her hand around Curtis’s waist fell. “Lance is the one to thank here.”

“Everyone deserves thanks,” Shiro said, turning to the room. “With the collective help of the amazing talents of everyone in this room, a murderer was put to rest, and Adam can move up to heaven now with a clear conscience.”

“Heaven is an objectified placed based on a religious system built upon years of-”

Lance came over and covered Pidge’s mouth.

“Just say thanks and clap, Pidge.” He told her, handing her a drink. Pidge licked the inside of his hand before holding up her cup.

“Cheers!” Allura exclaimed, and the rest followed.

* * *

Pidge took in a deep breath, breathing in the “fresh” city air. Her lungs expanded and retracted with the breath, her muscles tensing and relaxing all at once. Her mind went quiet for the first time tonight, her eyes closing and her mind taking in the sounds of the city around them.

She could still hear the party inside, but she’d wheeled herself out on her balcony for some quiet time. It didn’t last long, however, when the balcony door opened, and the sounds from inside got louder for a few seconds before it closed again.

“What are you doing out here?” She didn’t need to look to know it was Lance.

“I just needed a moment,” She mumbled, looking up to find him kneeling on the railing. “I haven’t had a moment to myself since I got in the hospital. I’m still horribly jet lagged… I’m tired.”

“I bet.” He said, handing her another cup. Again, another nonalcoholic beverage, but she appreciated his reserve to keep her safe. “Look, I’m sorry, Pidge. I did tell everyone that you’d probably want some peace and quiet, but everyone just wanted to make sure you felt appreciated.”

“And I do,” She laughed gently. “Don’t feel bad. They’re all doing it, because they were worried.”

“Worried is an understatement, Pidge. We were downright terrified.” Lance corrected, turning around so he could lean backwards against the railing.

“You too…?” She asked. Lance’s smile fell, the gleam of amusement in his eyes disappearing.

“… Why would you think differently?” He asked.

Pidge felt less than comfortable, like an immense pressure was pressing down on her shoulders all of a sudden. The stare in his eyes, the deep penetration of his blue iris’s bearing down on her had her looking away.

“Uhm…” She mumbled.

“Pidge…” He began, leaning down. Pidge froze with the sudden movement. “I… I was-…”

“Hey, guys!” Keith opened the balcony door, a little shaky in his movements and his words a little slurred. “We’re breaking out the cake!”

“Uh, Keith… You okay?” Pidge asked, leaning back in her chair. Her eyes followed Lance as he stood back up, a look of disappointment crossing his face.

“He’s been drinking,” Lance told her, grabbing the back of her chair. “Come on. Cake time.”

“Chocolate,” Keith grinned before leaving them to their own business, but whatever they had before had been ruined by his intrusion.

* * *

Pidge didn’t really recognize herself anymore.

She’d been in the hospital for a week. A week to monitor everything about her, from her low blood levels, the drastic drop in her vitamin D, and the breaks in both of her legs. The stitches that needed to be watched over, and the recovery of her leg after the compartment syndrome.

In that time she didn’t think much had changed. She looked the same somewhat, but somehow, looking in the mirror now, she didn’t really look like herself.

Maybe it was because she hadn’t stared into a mirror in over three months. Maybe it was because when she was in Peru, she hadn’t bothered with any sort of haircut. Maybe it was because her bangs were now to her chin, and her hair was down at her waist.

Or maybe it was the dead tired look in her eyes. Maybe it was her hallowed out cheeks and her pale complexion, her lack of freckles after not having been in sunlight for almost two weeks.

Whatever it was, she didn’t recognize herself anymore, and she didn’t like it. She didn’t like it one bit.

_ “Pidge, I was…” _

Lance’s words filled her with a deep pang of something that rang in her head as she picked up the scissors. She corrected herself in her chair, sitting up straight to get a better angle of herself in the mirror before bringing the scissors up to her neck. She grabbed a chunk of hair, and without thinking twice, she cut straight across the bottom, right above her shoulders.

Well. That was a lot more than she had planned on cutting.

“Whoops…” She mumbled, looking down at the clump of her hair in her hand.

No turning back now it seemed.

* * *

“Hey Pidge,” Lance called out, not turning around as she wheeled herself into the living room. “Where are your trash bags?”

“They’re under the sink in the third cabinet.” She said, trying hard to get herself past her furniture, but it wasn’t easy. The wheel chair was big and bulky, not meant for her apartment in any way.

“Thanks-” Lance spared a quick glance at her, but that was all that it took before he stopped himself, hands held in the air like he was reaching for said cabinet, but frozen in place.

Pidge felt self-conscious under his gaze, scrutinizing her own work and everything the haircut did. She reached up and felt the back of her neck, now bare, and rubbed gently at where her razor had cut her skin by accident when she tried to get rid of the baby hair.

“… I cut way shorter than I meant to.” She mumbled, looking down to her lap.

“N-No, Pidge…” Lance shook his head, his mouth wide open with words caught on his tongue. “You… Wow, you look...”

“It’s… Okay?” She asked him.

“Better than okay. It just… I can see your face again.” He lightly joked, abandoning his post to come closely inspect her work. “Wow, I never noticed how round your cheeks are.”

“You think?” She questioned, touching her cheek with a trembling hand.

“Yeah, and your eyes…” Lance suddenly went red in the face, clearing his throat as he turned away. “Uh, yeah. Looks good, uh… So, trash bags?”

“Why…?”

“So I can clean up this mess the heathens left?” He responded, looking down and away from her.

“Lance, just leave it. My maid will get it tomorrow.” She told him, waving him off.

“You have a maid?” He asked. “Damn, Pidge, that’s awesome.”

“She usually complains that she doesn’t have much to do here. This will be a treat for her.” Pidge explained, looking around.

Mostly definitely, everyone had left a nasty mess. Cups and plates with half eaten cake sat everywhere, napkins tucked in cups, and even one tucked in the cushions of her couch. Surely that had been Romelle or Keith’s doing. No one in their right mind would do that sober.

“Well at least let me clean up some of the food so you don’t get any ants.” He said, pointing to the cake sitting on her counter.

“Actually…” She mumbled, her hands falling to her lap to pick at her fingernails. “I think… I’d just like to go to bed, but… I can’t get to my room all that well.”

“Oh,” Lance uttered, walking out of the kitchen. “Not a problem.”

The man grabbed her chair and began wheeling her around her furniture and then down her hall. He walked her into her room, which was much cleaner than the last time he saw it. Clearly her maid worked miracles, because what had once been a mess so bad he didn’t have space on the bed, was now clean and pristine. Even the bed was made to look like it had been done up for a hotel.

“Alright, hang on tight,” Lance brought her to the side of her bed and locked the wheels into place.

Pidge wrapped her arms around his shoulders, doing as instructed as he scooped her up into his arms and laid her down gently in bed. Lance grabbed some of the pillow by her head and moved to sit up, moved to put them under her legs so they were above her heart, but she held on with a tight grip.

“Pidge?” He asked, looking down at her. Her lips were pulled into a deep frown, her eyes big and wide like she was about ready to cry, but he didn’t see any tears in her eyes. He saw distress though, and when he saw that, he set the pillows down and brushed her hair from her face. “What’s wrong?”

Pidge gently shook her head, the words lost to her. Instead she tugged on his shoulders, bringing him down to her level and gently pressing her lips to his.

She felt his breath against her lips. Felt his heart beating against her chest. Felt his hands as they traveled up her sides, one grabbing her hand and holding on while the other cupped her cheek. She sighed softly against him when he pulled back, a small sound caught in her throat, a sound of disapproval, before he spoke again.

“… I thought we agreed we wouldn’t do that again…” He mentioned, his fingers tightening around her own.

He was right. They had agreed half a year ago, and that one time a week and a half ago was supposed to be a fluke, and yet the only thing coming to her mind was…

“I missed you…” She replied, brown eyes looking into his own, so wide and pleading. She saw the way Lance’s Adam’s apple bobbed as he swallowed, like any residual argument he had was thrown out the window before he leaned down and kissed her without a second thought.

There was some distressed noise, maybe coming from her or from him. She wasn’t too sure. All she knew was that she was desperate to have him. Have him on her, in her, around her, contaminating everything that was her. She was desperate for  _ him _ , and she couldn’t get enough.

His hands wrapping around her wasn’t enough, pressing her against him so that no space was left between them. His tongue slipping past her lips wasn’t enough, even when she moaned into his mouth. His body against her, pressing her down into the mattress of her bed wasn’t enough, even when-

“Ouch…” She whined into his lips, wincing when her knee bent enough to cause an ache in her bones.

“Oh shit…” Lance sat up completely, removing all of his body weight, and looking down at her legs. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking.”

“It’s okay…” She whispered, reaching up to pull him back down.

“N-No, it’s not okay.” He grabbed her hands and held them in his own. “I’m not going to hurt you, Pidge. We can’t… Can’t do this.”

“You aren’t going to hurt me.” She argued, but he shook his head.

“Not intentionally. Your legs may be secured, but too much movement is going to jostle them. I can’t risk putting you months back in your recovery.”

“But I-…” Pidge bit her bottom lip in thought, but she didn’t have much in the way of a solution. Her mind was thinking of only one thing, and unfortunately that one thing was muddling the better part of her logical thought process.

“I want to too…” Lance sighed, leaning back on his heels. “But it’ll have to wait…”

Judging by the slight tenting to his pants, Lance wasn’t so keen on waiting, and neither was she.

“… Then let me do it.” She said, reaching for his belt.

“Do wh-? H-hey, wait!” He grabbed her hands as they started undoing his belt. “How do you plan on doing that?”

“Just sit over me. At least let me take care of that.” She argued, shaking his hands off.

“A-Are you sure? Pidge, I don’t want you to feel like you have to. There’s not much I can-”

“Lance.” She berated, glaring up at him. His lips pressed together tightly in silence. “Just… Let me do it. I want to.”

He seemed on edge, like there was a voice in his head telling him that this wasn’t okay. Obviously they couldn’t do this, and for what? For his own gratification?

Unfortunately there was another voice in his head telling him to take advantage of this situation, she was allowing it, and it was winning by a long shot.

Pidge yanked on Lance’s hips, making him tip forward, only to catch himself on the headboard. She kept tugging until he had no choice but to scoot forward, bringing his lower half towards her face and settling his weight on his knees bracketing her head.

Pidge undid his blue lion belt properly, tossing it to the floor to be forgotten about until later. She was quick to undo the button and pull the zipper of his jeans down, tugging them slowly down his hips until the outline of his half hard cock showed through his underwear.

The woman breathed in deeply, the heady scent filling her senses as she reached for his dick through the slit of his underwear. She pulled it out carefully, gently running her fingers over the veins of it and taking in the soft feel of it, like velvet, and the heaviness of it, the weight prominent in her palm.

Lance swallowed hard, and Pidge looked up at him just as she licked a long strip from his balls to the tip, then deviling in for a taste of the semen slipping out. His eyes closed in concentration, and Pidge thought proudly of herself as she took him into her mouth, letting him sit on her tongue and hallowing out her cheeks for one suck around him.

The man sighed, resting his head against his arm and blearily looking down at her. Pidge kept up the eye contact as she sunk down on him, inch by painful inch of his cock disappearing into her mouth. The sensation of being taken in by her was inducing a sort of drunk feeling, something high almost, and damn if he didn’t want to come down from it.

After a few gentle sucks around the head of his cock, Pidge closed her eyes, bringing her concentration solely on what she was doing. She liked seeming him lose it, but right now she just wanted to make him feel something other than fear.

_ “Pidge, I was…” _

No, she couldn’t bear to hear it. She never wanted to hear that pain, that distraught sound come from Lance ever again.

Pidge sucked harder, a free hand of hers reaching down to cup his balls and fondle them between her finger tips. She was nimble, quick to make him squirm, rubbing them carefully and using her nails to leave little pricks of scratches across him. Not enough to hurt, but just enough to make Lance huff in pleasure.

The pleasure was there. It was building up. She could feel it running through the veins of his cock, but it was other places too. Other places that were getting a little too distracting for her, so she reached down, pushing her other hand into her pants to ease up some of the tension.

Her fingers were nowhere near as good as Lance’s. He’d permanently ruined her of ever getting herself off alone again. They were too small, and not nearly as long as his were, so they didn’t reach as far as his did when he slid them inside of her.

When she slipped a finger in, she couldn’t help but moan against his cock, a whimper following when she grazed that ribbed area just above her entrance. Lance bucked a bit at the sensation of her moans, the vibrations running down his cock in such an empowering way. He just couldn’t help himself, but she didn’t complain. If anything, Pidge seemed to take that as a hint, tilting her head back some so she could give him better access to do it again.

It was all too tempting.

Lance slowly began thrusting in and out of her mouth, watching his cock disappear over and over again. He wouldn’t do anything drastic, because he feared what he could possibly do if he actually tried, but this was enough. Watching the way she took him in, right down to the root where her nose pressed into his pubic hair, and then back so only the tip was between her lips was hypnotizing to say the least.

He took in everything about it, but he noticed the way she bucked, seeming a little uncomfortable. When he looked over his shoulder, he was no less than surprised to see her hand into her pants, pleasuring herself. Her legs weren’t parted far, probably because the weight of her boot and cast kept them from opening, but it wasn’t enough for her.

This wouldn’t do.

Lance pulled his hips back, his cock slipping out of her lips with a pop before he turned around.

“W-What are you doing?” Pidge’s voice was raspy and breathless, slightly deep even, and it sent a shudder down his spine.

“I have an idea.” He said, throwing a leg over her head. She was still facing his cock, but Lance now had a good view of her hips, her hand still in her pants, though it slipped out within a moment. “I can’t let you do this by yourself. There’s gotta be some way to do this.”

“I’m fine…” She muttered, wrapping her hands around his dick. Lance scoffed from where he was, tugging her sweat pants down a bit, but not too far. He had to be careful, lest he jostle her legs.

“Just shut up and let me do this,” He argued, pressing two fingers to the wet spot in her underwear.

She was sensitive. Far more than he expected. He hips jolted up into his fingers when he rubbed against her clit, feeling the moist fabric with trepidation. It made Lance shiver with anticipation, looking back at her behind his leg before going for it.

Lance licked a long strip over her underwear, starting from where her clit was, and down to her entrance. Pidge groaned against the head of his erection, already farther ahead in pleasure than he was. Not as to say she wasn’t doing a good job (Fucking fantastic was more like it), but she was far more wired than he was.

Lance pushed her underwear aside, holding them back with one hand while he slipped a finger in with the other. Her insides were tight and wet, hot and  _ pulsing _ with the intrusion. He could practically feel her walls contracting around him, and this was only one finger. What would happen when he had two, three,  _ four-? _

“Ahh,” Pidge sounded pleasurably, her head falling back into the pillow.

“That good…?” He asked, but he knew the answer already. He did it all for the sheer pleasure of hearing her try to get out a rational thought.

“Y-Yes…” She breathed, rolling her hips down into his finger. “D-Don’t stop… Please…”

“Wasn’t planning on it.” His second finger teased her entrance next to the first one, testing the waters. When her mouth returned to his cock, he slowly slipped it inside. She was still tight, but it wasn’t anything painful for her. In fact, she moaned again around him, and the vibrations brought him ever closer to that sweet, sweet relief. “Fuck…”

He started thrusting his fingers slowly in and out, pressing up into that spot he knew drove her crazy. His thumb began playing with her clit, and even though he knew she was on the edge, when she came from that little stimulation alone, it took him by surprise.

Pidge bucked her hips wildly, or at least as much as she could with the boot and cast on. She let her head fall to cry out in orgasmic bliss, her voice pure heaven to his ears.

To think, he almost lost this.

Lance fucked his fingers into her slowly, teasingly, rubbing up into that spot with precision until she was too sensitive to go on. He slid his fingers out slowly, giving a few small licks to her overstimulated clit before parting to let her breathe.

“Wow…” He uttered, looking back at her. “You really needed that, huh?”

She didn’t say anything, instead slowly blinking. Her eyes found his, and when she caught his attention, something in her head seemed to click. What it was she didn’t know, but it was something that had her heart stutter.

Pidge went at his cock with a newfound enthusiasm. She took him in and sucked on him like he had something she needed, pulling out a surprised gasp and a pleased groan from him. What she didn’t reach with her lips, her hand took care of, pumping him with a firm grip while the other hand went back to fondling his balls.

She felt him tighten at that, his cock twitching in her mouth. He was close, and she wanted him to cum. She had to give back. This wasn’t supposed to be about her.

She had to make him see that.

She swallowed around him, putting pressure on him in a way that had him bucking again. Pidge nodded her head, hoping he’d somehow feel that, and maybe he did. Maybe he didn’t, but Lance started thrusting back into her mouth again, a little bit harder this time.

Pidge moaned against him, hoping that anything and everything would bring him over the edge. Sure enough, a few more thrusts, a firm grip on his balls, and a particularly hard suck was enough to finally have him come undone.

“Ahhh f-fuck…!” Lance seemed to forget himself for a moment, thrusting into her mouth as his cum filled it. Pidge drank it greedily, not ready to let him go, instead grabbing his hips and helping him thrust into her mouth, emptying himself inside of her.

His hips twitched with the effort it took to come down from his high, sensitive to her mouth. His mind seemed to have one cognitive thought go across it, and he gasped before pulling out of her mouth and rolling onto his back.

“F-Fuck, I’m sorry…” He apologized as she began gasping for air. Lance sat up slowly, feeling like every limb was filled with lead just to check and make sure she was alright.

Some of his cum had dribbled down the side of her mouth, down her cheek and into the short strands of hair by her ear. Her eyes were glazed over with lust as she breathed heavily, but a big smile was plastered on her face.

“You okay…?” He asked, wiping away the dribble of cum.

“Fuck, that was perfect…” She breathed, a laugh lacing her tone.

“Yeah, it was…” Lance smiled, leaning down to place a kiss on her lips. “Perfect way to end a fun night, huh?”

While he had only meant it in one way, the words seemed to bring Pidge back to reality, to remind herself that this was only temporary, and fuck did she hate that.

She didn’t want this to end.

No, not again, because what if she lost him? What if it was him in some sort of bad situation next time?

And what if they didn’t make it in time?

“Lance…” She mumbled, turning her head to the side as Lance threw his legs over the side of the bed.

“Yeah…?”

“C-Could you…” She began, but stopped short. Lance looked over his shoulder, noticing her eyes lost in thought before reaching up to tuck some short pieces of hair behind her ear.

“What’s up?” He asked.

“Could you… Stay tonight?” She asked, looking up slowly. She caught the way his blue eyes widened curiously. “I just… I’ll need help in the morning, getting in and out of the chair. I’ll need a shower, and I won’t be able to do that myself…”

She tried to be logical. She really did, because in hindsight, what she said was true. She would have a hard time showering by herself, getting out of bed would take some doing, and maneuvering around her apartment would be difficult for her to do in her wheelchair. She wasn’t used to it yet, and her arms definitely couldn’t keep up at it all day.

So she tried logic. It was the only thing that made sense to her. What didn’t make sense to her though was his answer.

“I didn’t plan on leaving.”

* * *

What originally was supposed to be a night of passion and help in the morning turned out to be something more.

More along the lines of Lance temporarily moving in with Pidge for the next five weeks.

It started out small. He was there a few hours of the day when she really needed it, would leave to go to work, come back to get her set up for bed, and leave. Sometimes he’d stay. Sometimes they’d find themselves fooling around, only to be too tired to do much else afterwards, and Lance would curl into her side like the first night she came back from Peru and fall asleep against her back.

When Pidge found herself suffering from the pain a week later, the painkillers no longer working as well as she wanted them too, Lance stayed more than intended.

He’d get up early, eat breakfast with her on the couch while watching cartoons, and then leave for work. Pidge busied herself with looking over pictures of the remains she’d found in Peru, cataloging everything and taking notes for her fellow colleagues to read. When Lance came back from work at the end of the day, sometimes with a friend from the Garrison visiting, sometimes alone, they’d have dinner and go to bed.

Pidge took great comfort in having someone at home with her. She didn’t think she’d ever like it. After all, she was used to being alone, and yet waking up in the middle of the night, feeling Lance’s breath on her neck and an arm around her waist, brought a sort of comfort to her she didn’t know she could ever want.

Before either of them knew it, five weeks had gone by. Five weeks of doctors checkups, blood work, a particular diet for Pidge, and a few nights a week of fooling around. The stronger her legs got, the easier they managed, but they didn’t go all the way.

Oh how she wished for it though. It’s what had her standing there, her legs aching, but otherwise supporting her weight, as she listened to the sound of keys in her front door.

Romelle had volunteered to take Pidge to the doctor today when Lance had a meeting he couldn’t get out of, so he hadn’t seen this yet, and the idea made her heart pound hard within her chest.

When he walked in, Lance had a piece of mail between his lips. His hands were busy fighting with his keys to get them out of the lock and flipping through other pieces of mail at the same time.

“Hey Lance,” She greeted, her fingers tightening behind her back.

“Mhm,” Lance mumbled, his greeting back to her muffled by the paper between his lips. He looked up distractedly, a quick glance cast at her before looking down, but then his blue eyes shot back up again, the paper caught between his lips falling to the floor. “Hey, you’re up!”

“Yeah,” She said, looking down at herself. She knew her stance was a little off. She was putting more weight on the leg that hadn’t been in as bad of condition as the other had, so she was a little crooked, but otherwise, she was standing. “The doctor said it’s time to start putting weight back on my legs again.” She told him.

“This is great!” Lance dropped his stuff on the coffee table, kicked the door shut, and came over to her, hands outstretched for a hug. “Wow, I didn’t think I’d see this when I got home today.”

Home.

When had that line blurred?

“Yeah, but he said only a bit at a time, and I’ve been standing here waiting for you for ten minutes, so I have to…” Pidge wiggled in his arms before Lance got the picture, helping her sit back onto the couch. She let out a sigh when the weight was off of her, relaxing into the comfortable cushions.

“So what else did he say? I mean, when does the boot come off?” Lance asked, knocking his knuckles into the boot on her right leg.

“Doctor said a few more weeks for this one. I start physical therapy next week though.” She explained with a smile. Lance’s was just as big.

“Man, this is great. You’re becoming an independent human again. Ugh, I’m so proud.” Lance wiped away an imaginary tear, sniffling gently. Pidge giggled and smacked his chest playfully.

“I’m not inept. I just needed some help for a bit.” She told him, wiggling her legs a bit to prove she wasn’t permanently damaged. Not to her knowledge anyway.

Lance’s smile softened, the energy and excitement in his eyes dimming a bit as he looked down to her boot.

“So… I guess this means you can take care of yourself like a perfect figure of society again.” He said, shrugging his shoulders. Pidge tilted her head at his words.

“I mean… I can start working at the Garrison again. I just can’t leave my desk for long periods of time, and I can start doing showers and things like that by myself again.”

“Yeah, so… Guess that means I can head back to my apartment then.”

The words made something in her heart fall. Something she didn’t understand. Logically that should have been a good thing. Pidge could take care of herself again. No more wheelchair. No more crutches. No more anything, so long as she didn’t plan on taking a jog anytime soon.

So wouldn’t that be a good thing that he’d leave? She would have her apartment to herself again. She would have her peace and quiet. No more of Lance watching cartoons. No more of his whines when she made him eat what she was eating. No more arguments over the blanket at night.

No more of his arm around her while they slept, or the feeling that someone was always there for her. No more of his soft touches when they took showers together, and no more of his hands caressing her cheek while he dried her hair.

No more of any of that. They’d just go back to how they used to be. Doctor Katie Holt, AKA Pidge, and Agent Lance McClain of the FBI. People who on occasion slept together.

Although, they were supposed to stop that, weren’t they? They’d agreed to it almost a year ago, and that’s when she started seeing other people. Sleeping together had been a catastrophe for their work relationship, so they chose to stop.

But things were going well now, weren’t they? Something was different. Something had changed. Ever since Lance had said he had missed her, Pidge knew something was different, she just… Couldn’t figure out what.

So logically speaking, Lance going back home was a good thing, and yet something in her said-

“Stay here,” Pidge blurted out before her thoughts had a chance to catch up to her.

“Huh…?” Lance uttered, frowning. Pidge looked down into her lap, her fingers tightening together as a simple distraction.

“I mean… I just… I…”

What was she trying to say? What did she  _ want  _ to say? She wasn’t even sure herself, but that little filter between her brain and mouth was broken, and words were spilling out before she could stop them.

She had a doctoral degree in forensics anthropology. What was she doing stuttering like an inconsiderate fool?

“You… Want me to stay?” Lance asked her, tilting his head to get a better look at her face.

“I… Yes…” She answered, swallowing a hard lump in her throat. “I mean… A lot of your stuff is here already. It would make sense if you just… Stayed…”

“… Most of the big stuff is back at my apartment, Pidge.” He reminded her.

“Oh, right… Right…”

“You… Want me to move in? Like… Forever?”

“… Yeah…”

This was getting so difficult.

“… No.”

The answer was abrupt, making Pidge’s head shoot up. She hadn’t been expecting that kind of answer, much less one so quick to tear her heart out of her chest.

“… O-Oh,” She uttered, looking away.

“Pidge,” Lance said, cupping her cheek and forcing her gaze back on him. “If we are going to do this, I don’t want to live  _ here.”  _ He corrected, not breaking eye contact.

“… What do you mean?” Clearly she didn’t understand.

“I mean here is  _ your  _ place, and my place is  _ my  _ place. If we move in together… I want our own place. Something that’s ours. Not yours or mine.”

Something funny tingled in her chest. Something she hadn’t felt in a very long time, maybe not ever. Nothing her family ever did could have made her feel this way.

No, because this was a different kind of emotion, and maybe she had an idea of what it was now, but she wasn’t ready to say it yet.

“I… I want a place of our own. So yeah, let’s do it, but… Let’s do it the right way.” Lance took up her hands, smiling gently. “No more back and forth, just… Us.”

“Us…” She repeated, slowly nodding her head. Lance’s grin got bigger.

“Yeah, us…”

She didn’t have the word for it yet, though she had an idea of what it could be. For now, however, she could safely say a word that took its place.

Home.

“I like the sound of that…” She agreed wholeheartedly, leaning forward to hug him. Lance wrapped his arms around her, nearly pulling her into his lap, but that damn boot got in the way like it always did.

“So do I…”

She felt the tender touch of lips against her head. A soft breath fanned against her skin, and Lance’s hand cupped the back of her bare neck, cradling her close.

Safety.

Home.

That’s what this was for now, and until she could say the proper word, she had no arguments.

“So… What now?” Lance asked, eyes filled with a beautiful mirth as he sat back to look at her. “We start looking for a place of our own?”

“Not yet,” Pidge spoke gently, carefully, cautiously.

“Then now what?” He asked, clearly confused.

“Now I’m going to tell you I’m pregnant.”

She felt him physically stiffen against her.

A moment went by, and then another, and then a few more. It was becoming increasingly quiet the longer Lance sat and stared at her, eyes wide and lips parted, but nothing was coming out of them.

Pidge tilted her head, lifting a hand to wave it in his face.

“Y-You…” He tried, but that didn’t go well.

“You’re the father.” She said, just in case he didn’t figure that out.

“H-How…? I thought… You were on the pill…”

“I was, but there were a few days between my flight from Peru and coming home where I didn’t take it.” She explained.

Again another moment went by, and then a minute, but then finally, Lance smiled.

“Really…?” He asked, as if he couldn’t believe it.

“Yeah… I found out today. When I got my blood work done, that’s… How I found out.”

“No shit…” Lance said, leaning back a little. It was starting to click into place. “Really…?”

“Yeah…”

“Holy shit,” Lance breathed, his smile getting bigger. “No way.”

“Either that or I’m the Virgin Mary.”

“Holy shit!” He let out a laugh so loud she thought the neighbors would definitely hear it.

Pidge startled when he wrapped his arms around her, lifting her from the couch and spinning the both of them around. Pidge squealed, and at first when she thought she’d been scared and fearful of the outcome, now she just felt…

Happy.

Really, really happy.

Family.

There was another word.

* * *

“I’m a whale already… It’s gotta be a boy.” Pidge said, slowly sitting on the couch besides Lance.

“Yes, but Allura’s ring said you were having a girl,” He reminded her.

“The ring test is simply the directionality of the ring being pulled on by the direction the earth is rotating. You can’t possibly believe a ring on a string.” She rolled her eyes at him as Lance glanced up from the folder for a brief moment to look at her belly. He smiled, placing a hand over it to feel the small bump.

She was already fifteen weeks along. What a trip, and yet they still had yet to move into their new apartment. They had to wait for their contracts to come to an end before moving in, but they already had the baby’s room picked out, along with colors to the room.

“First off, it was a ring on a strand of Allura’s hair, which we know has magical powers, and secondly, whether it’s right or not, I know it’s going to be a girl.” Lance said, wiggling his eyebrows.

“Oh yeah?” Pidge asked with a laugh. “How so?”

“Because I can feel it in my belly.”

“You’re going on a feeling in your stomach? You sure that’s not the spicy ramen you ate for lunch?” She joked, and Lance shook his head with a gentle laugh.

“Samantha,” He said.

“Huh…?”

“If it’s a girl, Samantha.” He said. “And if it’s a boy, Samuel. Either way we call the baby Sam.”

“After my father…?” She asked, eyes widening.

“I mean do you really want the baby to be named after my parents?”

“Why does the baby need to be named after any parent?”

“Because it’s a tradition, Pidge.” Lance set the file folder down in his lap to place both his hands over her belly. “We’ve got to start something. After all, both of our families are a mess. Let’s give this baby a fresh start, shall we?”

“… I’ll think about it.”

There wasn’t really any thinking to it. The idea of naming the baby after her father was a brilliant idea. Either way, boy or girl (Although she was leaning towards a girl with an elegant name like Samantha), the babies name was Sam, and she liked it.

“Cool,” Lance went back to his work, adjusting the pen behind his ear to hold it better.

“So what do you have there?” Pidge asked, looking over his shoulder. “A new murder case I don’t know about?”

Her eyes caught sight of the name quickly.

“Nope,” Lance said with a pop to the  _ p _ . “I’m opening Matt’s missing person’s case.”

“… Lance, he was declared dead by the state two years ago.” She reminded him.

“Yeah, but I’m declaring him missing.” Lance turned his whole body towards her. “I’m not giving up on him, Pidge. You shouldn’t either.”

The phone started to ring, but she couldn’t care less. Pidge was no less than flabbergasted by Lance’s thoughtful act, much less the idea that he even  _ wanted _ to look for him. Everyone had given up on the idea that Matt was alive after he went missing five years ago, and two years ago the state declared him dead and closed his case.

No bodies were ever found. No evidence to support him being dead or alive. Nothing. It was a cold trail that stopped at the credit card payment used at an old gas station outside of town, and that was it.

He simply vanished without a trace.

And it ate her up to this day.

“I’ll get it,” Lance said, setting his stuff aside.

“No,” Pidge grabbed his arms and pulled him close. “Let the machine get it.”

She pulled him in for a kiss. One filled with the tender passion she reserved for days she was particularly emotional, but today had been fine. It had been until he said that though.

“Mh, Pidge…” Lance whispered against her lips. “Not that I don’t want to, but… The idea of having sex while you’re pregnant…”

“Sex is actually very healthy for the baby,” She explained. “Plus the baby is protected by amniotic fluid and the mucus plug that develops around the-”

“You’re totally ruining the moment.” Lance remarked as the machine picked up the call.

_ “Katie, it’s me…” _

She stopped breathing at the sound of the voice. Even Lance seemed to recognize it without ever hearing it before, his eyes widening in surprise before looking over to the machine where her phone sat.

_ “Listen, Katie, I… I don’t have time to explain, but you can’t open my case again. You have to stop looking for me.” _

Matt’s voice.

It hadn’t changed a bit.

_ “Please, Pidge. Tell Agent McClain to close the file and never open it again. I’m doing this for you, okay? You, Lance and the baby are safer this way, so… Close my file.” _

Pidge’s breath shuddered at his words.

_ “Please, Katie…” _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Eyyyy~ Let's finish this off with a big thank you. ;)

**Author's Note:**

> Part 2...  
> Coming soon...  
> When I can get off my lazy ass to proof it.


End file.
